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MASTER AND MAN: 



J^ lE^IL.^"^ 



IN A 



PROLOGUE AND FOUR ACTS, 



BY 



FRANCIS HOWARD WILLIAMS. 



Cojn/right Secvrcd. All Rights resirveil. 



u4^^ 



DaiN'l F. Gii.i.in, Pr., 717 Sansom St., Phila. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Eustace Vernon, an English artist. 

ToNio RiVELLi , his valet ; afterwards known as the Count Oavalli. 

Froth INGHAM Holland, a New York club man. 

Dr. Brigqs, who tempers medicine with scientific invention. 

Mrs. Holland, a matron of New York society. 

Olive, her daughter. 

Cecily Marigold, niece of Mrs. Holland. 

Stella, wife of Rivelli. 

The Scene of the Prologue is in Rome. The action of the rest 
of the play is in New York. 

Time the present 



I 



P5 35i<^ 

, \\!g is n 3 
PROLOGUE, 



<tii(iio of Kiigtace Vernon in Rome. (Rivdll discov- 
ered standing liefore a picture, partly finished, 
upon the easel). 

RivEM,i. (xoliia.) Pretty well my young aristo- 
(■r!it. Kt'en your cursed pride does not keep you 
from hard vork. You want fame, eh ? A little 
vord vith a big meaning; four letters and efery 
letter a lie ! And for vat you vant it? For her, 
(itKitionii towards Easel,) a girl with S(jft eyes and 
bright hair. Yes, there is the shadow under 
the eyelids and the fall of the hair on the tem- 
I)Ie. Who would belief you have but three 
times seen her ? That you haf not yet discover 
her name ? Your brains are queeck ven your 
heart is touched. You can paint eyelids and 
blushes. Master Vernon ; why not scars ? 
(phiciii;/ tii.i hand to hi-<< left temple) scars like this f 
Malediction ! 

' And this is your Ideal ? 

[Veil, 'tis pretty enough in its way. I'll svear she 
is not Italian. The colors are too fleeting. A 
voman like zat only lif fife year. She is awk- 
ward until eighteen, and faded after tventy 
three. Bah ! They have no blood, these Saxon 
beauties. Stella is of a better type. 
[Enter c. Stella.) 
' Stella. Ah, Tonio ; you spoke nTy name. I hear 
it as I step upon the sill . It means that you 
think of me ; that you will be kinder to me 
Tonio, does it not ? 

RivELLi. No. Why come you here ? Have I 
not told you that it will ruin me to have you 
forever' at my heels ? 

Stella. But, Tonio, hear me — 

BivELLi. Silence, I say. I haf explain all to 
you. Keep away and I can rise and then lift 
you Once let yourself be seen, and all is lost. 
I have nothing I tell you. 

s lELLA. But, Tonio, for ihercy's sake ! The sweet 
bambino almost is starving. Oh, I prayed to 
the Holy Virgin for bread, and it seemed like a 
whis[)er in my heart which bade me come to 
you. He's hungry, Tonio. Your child is 
hungry. Drife me not away. • 

RiVELLi. I haf nothing, nothing. 

Stella. But perhaps the Signor whom you 
serve — 

Rivelli. I serve? 

Stella. Oh, for whom you work — 

Rivelli. Fool ! Were your existence known to 
him, all would be lo.st. And do you think j 
should cringe to him — to him who gave me this 
disgrace uinn my forehead vith his riding 
whip? Oh these English curs, with their pride 
of blood and their length of purse, who think 
they possess the univer.se in fee. Why girl, you 
are but a peasant. I was but a peasant, till' he 
chose to make me a gentleman. And wlty did 
he choose ? Not for my sake, but to salve his 
own conscience. 'Tis tl;e way with these 
cattle. A iieasant is but a thing to bow to them, 
to take their blows, and after take their pence. 
They strike him, and then call him "my goot 
nian," and give him a shilling. 'Tis as easy as 
lying. Bah! You would seek favors of h'im ? 

Stella. No, no ; not favors. Onlv honest work. 
See these works ; see this and tliis. The Signor 
must have models for these studies and — 



you think yon could 
Ha, ha, ha! 



Rivelli. Ha, ha, ha. And 
serve as model for these ? 

Stella. Ah, Tonio ; 'tis not so long since you 
thought me beautiful enough. Since you said — 

Rivelli. — Never mind what I said. I was a fool. 
Now go. 

Stella. But the bambino ? 

Rivelli. — Let him starve. 'Tis better so I 

Stella. No, no. You cannot mean it. Tonio, I 
am without bread. I will do all I can to keep 
out of your way and so helji you to rise. I 
know that I am ignorant and you educated. 
The Signor has given you book learning and 
made a gentleman of you. 

Rivelli. Bah ! He ! 

Stella. While I am but a peasant still. I know 
I should drag you back and I'll keep away. But 
you loved me mice, Tonio ; and I cannot see the 
bambino die of want. 

Rivelli. Will you stop your whining ? Some- 
one will hear. 

Stella. I will not trouble you, Tonio ; only give 
me enough for a little and bread. I'll not taste 
it myself. 1 can live, if only I can get food for 
him. For the love of heaven — 

Rivelli. Be quiet, I tell you ! 
Tonio, he will die. 
Let him. Now go. 
Tonio ! Give me something. 
Well, take that. 

and rudely pns, 



her out. tilie • 



Stella. 

Rivelli. 

Stella. 

Rivelli. 

(//(' strikes her 

screams). 
Rivelli. Hush ! 
Stella. I will never ask again. But from this 

moment I will be yourjudge. 
Rivelli. Be what you like ; but go ! 

{E.rit Stella). 

RtvEi.Li. Curse this fate whi(^h forever keeps me 
in fear of losing all ! Why cannot the woman 
let me alone ? The fool cannot be made to 
understand that 'tis her own interest to keep 
out of sight. 

Vernon {from withoid) Rivelli. 

Rivelli. Here Signor. 

{Enter Vernon). 

V. What was that scream ? It sounded like a 
woman's voice. 

R. Scream, Signor ? I heard no scream. 

V. Why yes But now. It surely was a wo 
man's voice. 

R. It must have been from gome of the romps in 
the Plaza. I lieard nothing, Signor. 

V. Strange. I could have sworn to it. 

R. If I may make bold to say it, I think the Sig- 
nor meditates too much. He have complain 
much of ze head lately and I believe ze imagina- 
tion is over stimulate. The Signer's condition 
is nervous. 

V. You think me just a little ? {touching his 

forehead). 

R. {Crossing himself). All the holy saints forbid, 
Signor. I said nervous. 

V. What should have made me so? 

Iv. Contemplation. 

V. Of what? 



K. ( Orossint/ himself ). The blessed Saints forleml 1 

V. Oh, this is terrible. 

E. {aside). I wonder if he means ze million. 

(aloud). Oh, terrible indeed. Signer. Forgive 
me, my sympathy overcome me, (he leipes his 
eyes) I am but human, Signor, and your news 
falls upon me so suddenly. 

V. But there's no time to lose. I go by the next 
steamer, Rivelli. Let everything remain. Pic- 
tures, marbles, all. Have my portnianteau 
packed, and get me the time schedules. 

R. And you go alone, Signor ? 

V. Yes. But stop. You are one of the few 
whom 1 can trust. (R. hows loie.) Would you 
like to go with me ? 

R. I am ever at your fommand, Signor. 

V. Then come with me. Be quick. Ha ! 

[A sudden knock. R. goes to door and takes in a tele- 
gram, which he hands to V. who opens it and then 
stands speechless.) 



li. Sir I In h:" 

( I', hands R. the telegram.) 

R. Dead ! 

Y. No. He still lives in me. His ruined life has 

at last found its rest. For me the real duty of 

living has but ju.st begun. 
R. And we start at once ? 
V. At once. From this moment I consecrate 

myself to the fulfilment of my vow. 
R. And her? (Lifting the drapery from the picture 

on the easel.) 
V. Alas ! I dare not look, I dare not look. 

( V. rushes out. ) 
R, These fools vith consciences. Bah ! 
END OF PROLOGUE. 



I 



^GT I 



Drawing- Room (f Mrs. Holland, ill New York. Occa- 

siowd laughter and the clink of gl'KSes heard 

from adjoining room, a,l hack. 

( Mrs. Holland, Olive and Cecily seated at small table, 
sipping leu. A seritant passes across, at hack, and 
draws the curtains at doorway. 

Cec. Oh, I think it's horrid. 

Mrs. H. There my dear you show your want of 
judgment. If men didn't sit over their wine, as 
the phrase is, they'd be sure to drink in a hurry 
and so add the ills of dyspepsia to the evils of 
over-indulgence. Besides, we shouldn't have a 
chance to sip our tea. 

Cec. I can't see that that would be very terrible ; 
I'd much rather sip Sherry. 

OnvE. Treason 

Mrs. H- Quite dreadful I m sure. It's one of the 
evidences of civilization that ladies retire from 
the table when a certain jioint is reached. The 
presence of woman is a restraint. We remove 
it at times, just as we unstring a bow, — to keep 
it elasti<'. 

Cec But I'd like to be unstrung too, once in a 
while. 1 don't .see why all the Iwjws should be 
masculine. 

Olive. You are a reformer (Jecily. 

Mrs. H. Men want the freedom of a chat en gar- 
con occasionally. There are many little things 
they wish to talk about, which it wouldn't be 
quite the thing for ladies to hear. 

(Laughter from within.) 

Cec That's one of the "little things," I suppose. 

Mrs. H. Likely. 

Cec. I'd like to know what it is, wouldn't you, 
Olive ? 

Ol. I have no such curiosity, I assure you. 

Mrs. H. Quite right dear. I am sure Cecily 
doesn't reflect when she talks that way. 

Cec. Oh no, I never reflect. 

(more laughter within.) 
But it nmst be just awfully funny, mustn't it ? 

Ol. It depends largely upon the point of view, I 
fancy. 



Mrs. H. Altogether so. (To Cecily.) IJave a bis- 
cuit, dear V For my part I like to see gentle- 
men enjoy themselves in their own way 

Cec. That's just it. I'd like to see them, but I 
don't, I only hear them, and that at a distance. 
Just as things liven up to an interesting [joint 
we^re expected to retire. Its like going to a 
play and stopping your ears whenever tlie low 
comedian enters. 

Olive, couldn't you crack some jokes over the 
tea? Even that might ease up the general 
gloom. 
Mrs. H. My dear girl, you are continually chaf- 
ing against the trammels of a proper conven- 
tionality. My good cousin, your father, did 
wisely in sending you into the t'ountry to live 
until yo\i were eighteen, but I am equally sure 
that 7 have done wisely in bringing you back 
with us to town, now that you have passed that 
age. You want the least little bit of a check 
upon your abandon. 

(More laughter within.) 
Listen, I think the Count is making a speech. 
By the way, Olive, I wish you had not taken so 
(jiieer a notion about staying away from dinner. 
I think the Count thought it rather odd. And 
now I shall have to present him to you here. 
It's always a trifle awkward— this after-dinner 
presentation. 
Ol. You know, mamma, I do not especially in- 
cline to Counts 
Cec. Oh he's not so bad, this one, I assure you. 
He paid me two compliments in bad French 
before we had finished the souji. 
Mrs. II. You must remember he is Italian, not 

French. 
Cec. Oh, I know. And Olive, he enquired after 

you in the most insinuating manner. 
Ol. Yes; their manners are all insinuating. 1 
know th(vu. One could hardly pass a summer 
in Italy without learning something of the ge- 
nus. 
Mrs. H. You are prejudiced, my child; and let 
me tell von that jirejudice is a very bad thing 
to indulge in. (To (Hire.) Tea, dear? One 



I 



iiiiist aUv.iys jinlyc IVom Uk' sUuulpiiint of a 
luuii's iialiuiuility. If one uianies a Kreiifh'Juiii 
DiK' expejts tcj be oailod Moii mii/e on eveiy or- 
casioa. 

Cec'. {au(L'.) For IIil' lirsl two months. 

Mi!.s- M. If an flaliaii, .S/«jsa Cirixxiiii'i, witli nurn- 
berle.« honeyed vowels on the ton;j;iie. 

C\:c. {anldi:) And a stilleto in the liand. 

Mks. H. Ifan Englishman, simply, my dear. 

Cisc. (amk.) Ami precious hicky if she gets that. 

Mus. H. As to the Germans 

Ol. Well ! The Germans ? 

Miis. H. They only emit a guttural noise. Don't 
call you anything in particular. 

Cue. And as for Americans, they call you mi/ dar- 
lincj, for the tirst half year, and old girl, for the 
next half ''entury. Oh, I know them. 

Oi.. You .seem to have studied char.icters to some 
purpose. 

iVIrs. H. _Ha, ha, ha. You are really quaint Ce- 
cily; if I can only give you the requisite tone 
without destroying your naivete, you'll take soci- 
ety by storm when 1 bring you out. 

t'l'X'. Thank you. It's awfully good of you, I am 
sure. I d<in't believe 1 shall be half so hard on 
the foreign nobility as Olive is. 

Oij. You (juite mistake me. I am not hard on 
anybody, but I d.ni't see why Frothingham 
sbouM give dinners to Italian Counts whom he 
has not known for a week. 

INIks. li. Oh dear, dear. This will never do. You 
forget, my child, that the world moves quite too 
fast to permit of long friendships and that sort 
of thing. You will hold on to your romantic 
ideas of an Arcadia where all the flowers are 
natural and all the sentiments artless. It's ex- 
tremely pi-etty I admit ; but one has to conform 
to .Mie's suiTOundings. To be in the world one 
must be (//' it. Our prisition in society would be 
quite other than it is, had I not always looked 
out for it. 

I think Frothingham quite right to cultivate 
the best people. 

Ol. How do you know, my dear mother that this 
gentleman belong.s to the 'best people." 

Mus. H. Ha, ha, ha. You sweet sample of siui- 
plicity ! Why didn't Froth}' meet him at the 
Statibrd Club? 

\yasn't he presented by Bertie Deval ? And 
isn't that a guarantee ? Besides, any one can 
see at a glance that Cavalli is to the manner 
liorn. 1 lis suniir fuire at dinner was simply per- 
fect ; and had you not taken that silly notion to 
remain away ■ 

Ol,. I beg yon not to refer any more to that. I 
really had a headache. 

Cec. Or— {Taps her heart.) 

Oi,. Don't be silly Cecily. 

Mrs. H. Well, I have no quarrel with you; but I 
think you sometimes make a mistake. 

Ol. Mistake ! why is there not something else 
in the world of a woman than the eternal study 
of policy? May she not a.s]iire to the attain- 
rnent of something noble and true in life? 
Surely you would not have me forever posing 
for an effect, or acting with a view to all future 
contingencies. Is there nothing but artifice? 

Mus. H. There you go again. Not artifice at all. 
Simply art. We do not live in a state of nature, 
but under the conditions of a very complex art. 
Society is the essence of civilization. To abro- 
gate the one is to crush out the other. Aspire 
all you like, but don't neglect the conventional- 
ities of life, and alwav.s — as it were — 



(-'!■:■. Keep an eye to the m;i,in chance ! 
Mus. 11. Well — ah — that is the idea, perhajis, but 
rather vulgarly expressed. 

Ol. Well, what is my fault ? 

Mus- H. You are too quiet, for one thing. i\iuch 

too reserved. 
Ckc. That's the way with me, too. 
Mus. H. Hardly, my dear. You need the curb 

rather than the spur. 

(Lauijhtir aynin heard within.) 
Another cup of tea, child? 
Cec. No, thanks. (Aside.) Who could enthuse 
on tea. ? 

ifra. H. loaches a hand-ljcU. A servant eiilirs A'., an.d 

removes tea-tray.) 
Mrs. H. The great difficulty is to hit the ha|ipy 

mean in all these matters. There now was Mrs. 

Delatour. She had to contend with an opposite 

extreme. Her daughter, you know, elo|)ed from 

boarding school at seventeen. 
Cec. What luck some girls do have ! 
Mrs. H. Luck ! Good heavens ! child, she ran 

otf with her dancing-master. 
Cec. How charming ! I suppose life with them 

is one continual German ! 

Mrs. H. One can indulge one's peculiarities and 
still always conform to society's rules. Look at 
our good friend. Dr. Briggs, for instance. I war- 
rant he is enjoying his wine in the next room 
as much as any of them. He is always punctil- 
ious in matters of dress and etiquette and social 
form. Yet he has his eccentricities, as you 
know. 

Ol. Yes, we all know the dear doctor's peculiari- 
ties. 

Cec. Has he invented anything new in the last 
twenty-four hours ? 

Mrs. H, Ha, ha, ha. Most probably ; though his 
last ventui'e was so unlucky that I wontler he 
isn't discouraged. 

( 'EC. What was it ? 

Mks. H. It was a balloon which he claimed had 
completely .solved the problem of aerial naviga- 
tion. He went up triumphantly to the enor- 
mous altitude of twenty feet and then dropped 
into the canal. Ha, ha, ha. 

Cec. Oh, ha. ha, ha. How funny ! 

Mrs. H. He came very near drowning. 

Cec. How very funny ! Ha, ha, ha. 

Ol, I .judge he didn't find it so. 

Mrs. H. No. They fi.shed him out with one of 
his own patent extension-rods for sjiortsnien. 
Ha, ha, ha. He said afterwards it wasn't every 
man who could save his life by a fishing-rod 
of his own invention Ha, ha, ha. 

Ol. ]\Iuch like a doctor taking his own physic. 

Cec. They're breaking up. Now Olive, look your 
loveliest. 

Ol. Faugh ! 

Mrs. H. It would be as well, Olive dear, for you 
to show a little animation towards this Cavalli. 
He is a most polished gentleman ; and really 
you are very distraite. 

Ol. With every desire to meet your wishes, I 
must say that 1 guess Count Cavalli will have 
to take me as he finds me. 

Cec Hoity-toity ! We just sniff at Counts, we 
do! 

Mrs. H. Let him find you agreeable ; that is all. 

Ol. I shall hope for that result, I am sure. 



(EiUfi- at bach, Rii'dli [as Count Ownllii, Fmlliiinj- 
liam Holland awl. Dr. Bi-igijx.) 

Dr. B. {to KivHU.) Not in the loast, I assure ymi ; 
the two majrnfets 02)|)ose each other and keep 
the pressure steady- 

Ckc. {aside.) More invention. 

Dk. B. Ladies, since yon left us. tlie talile has 
seemed but a desolate garden with the roses all 
departed. 

Cec. (axidf.) Sort of a kitehen-trarden, in fact. 

Riv. Oh, Signora, Dr. Briggs' poetic expression 
is so fiicile as to leave but little chance for the 
eloquence of the rest of us. Truly ven the la- 
dies haf quit the room the perfume of life quite 
vanish vith them. 

Mus. II. It is altogether astonishing tliat they can 
tear themselves away at all, with such masters 
of compliment at the board. 

You have not yet met my daughter, Count, 
will you do me the honor ? 

Riv. {(lirinyhifarmtoMrs.//.) A great happi- 
ness, Signora. 

■■*Fi!OTri. (to ('ecil.) You are looking reuuirkably 
well, Cecily. 

('\',r. So you told me at dinner. 

,AIks. II, Dear, I wi.sh to present the Count Cav- 
alli.' .My daughter. Count. 

( liioelli hows loin, and as he /i/fc his eyes to Olive's face, 
.•.-/(ti-fe ifiolevllji, hut rjidckly recoKers his self-posses- 
.•<ii)ii.) 

'Jiv. 1-I-aui am lnui'ircd. May I beg to ex- 
press the hope that the indisposition which de- 
prif us of Mees Hulhiud's company at dinner is 
(luite vanish V 

0[,. I am feeling better, I thank you. 

Ckc. Ho Froth.) Did you see that ? 

Froth. What? 

Ci-;c. Pshaw! men never see anything. (,»live 
took him straiglit between tlie eyes. 

i'uorii. (iood Heavens! 

Cec. I mean, he is struck. Ilidn't you notice how 
he started V 

Froto. Never a bit, 'pon lioiior. 

Cec. Oh, yon men! 

Mrs. H. I am sure. Count, tliat nothing short of 
one of Olive's terrible headaches could have 
prevented her presence. 

Kiv. It is a malady vich excuse everything. 
Though I should have thought that a head so 
l.ioaulil'ul could never ache. {Bowing.) 

(>i.. Yiiu compliment with Latin profusene.ss, 
( 'iiunt. It is ipiite dazzling to an American. 

Ci;c. {To Friilh.) Did you hear that? 

FiioTM. What? 

Ceo. You men never hear anything. 

Dr. B. (To Cec.) You look very well, Miss Ce- 
cily. 

Cec. Now that's just what Frotliingham .said a 
moment since. 

Dr. B. But he spoke as a rhapsodist and I as a 
physician. 

Cec. Yes ; Frothingham deals in confectionary. 

Froth. And the doctor? 



MKS. H. 


OR. B. 


* » 




0. R. 


F. C. 



< 'v.r. In drugs. 

I)];. IS. Oh, 1 say; that's too bud. I'.y the way, 
speaking of drugs,. I have just i>erfected a new 
invention. 

Froth. Heavens! Another! 

Dr. B. It's a wonderful thing, I a.ssure you— wa- 
fer charged with ammoniacal gas. Most useful 
in inducing a sudden reaction. I enclose the 
liquid in a sy|)hon-jar, likesoda-water, you know. 
Suppose a lady faints in a crowded drawing- 
room. Good ; I pull my syphon from my jiock- 
et, gently send a .sjiray into her face, and she 
revives before there is time for a commotion. 

Froth. (rr.s-uZc.) Now fancy a man going about a 
drawing-room in a claw-hammer coat with a sy- 
phon in the tail pocket ! 

Cec. And then when yon waltzed (he thing 
would begin to fizz, and everybody would take 
you for a dynamiter. Ha, ha, ha. 

Froth. Ha ha, ha. 

Dr. B. Dancing and doctoring go not together. 
Ha, ha, ha. 

Mrs. II. (Crossing to Left.) You seem to be hav- 
ing a deal of merriment over here. 

Cev. Tluxt goes without saying, where the doctor 
is. (Aside, to Mrs. II.) Tliey ajjjjear to be ab- 
sorbed. 

Mrs. H. Ssli ! He is sympathizing with her 
headache. 

Cec. Yes ; he seems sympathetic. Ahem. 

Ol. (To. Riv.) You say vou iind oin-ciiniate trv- 
ing? 

Kiv. Your air is harsher, though I doubt no( you 
have less of miasma than the dangerous season 
brings to Rome. 

Ol. My e.vperience there was conlined, perhaps, 
to a safe season. 

I!iv. And yon have lately been in Rojue? 

(..)i.. We have but recently returned. 

Riv. (aside.) Then I am not mistaken in the 
face, (aloud.) 'Tis a great city, Signorina — a city 
vith a historical pers]iective ; an element, per- 
haps I should say the onlg element, vich this 
great country of yours lacks. 

Ol. We lack much, but are content with what 
we possess — the noblest of forests, the grandest 
of rivers 

Riv. And the fairest of women. 

Ol. Of that 1 am scarcely a judge. 

Riv. But certainly an example. Pardon me ; 
you see lam a judge. 

Oi.. Doubtle.ss an adept, sir. 

Dr. B. {Crossing to Right.) Really, Count, I have 
to come to you for appreciation. They are dis- 
[)osed to make fun even of my syphon- 

Riv. (aside.) Pest on his syphon ! 

Dr. B. I explained it to you at dinner. 

Riv. Ah, yes; you have, my dear sir, iuqiarted 
to me all ze interesting detail. 

Ol. Is that the latest invention, doctor? 

Dr. B. Up to this time, yes. But I have a cage 
in my head. 

Froth. Heavens ! A cage in your liead ! 

Cec Ha, ha, ha. How awfully jolly ! 

Dr. B. I mean the idea of a cage ; for use in the 
zoological gardens ; capable of securely holding 
a rhinoceros, but easily opened and closed by 
the smallest child. 

Froth. In wliich case the smallest cliild would 
probably let out the rhinoceros to lunch on any 
other children that hap|iened to be about. 



Cki'. ll;l, lui, lui. Hnw jnlly: 

fKOTiT. Fur till.' rliiii.irL'nis. 

3Ii;s. ir. Fnithiiiijiliaiii. ymi am verv Iitei-;il. 

Ill:, i!. Isn't lie now ? 

FitciTir. I (inly keep an eye to contin.tjeui'iehi. I 
knew a fellow once who lamed a ten-tliousaud- 
dnllar mare tryini;- to test the merits of a new 
knee-bra<-e. 

i.'ec. Horse talk airain. 

Fkotu. It's my hobby. We all have hobbies, and 
mine happens to be a liobby-ZiortV. The Count 
and I have doctored up a little w-ager on Tues- 
day's races, already. 

Dr. B. {(inide.) I call it a pretty bis one. 

<)l. I believe a wajer is the ultimate lo<:ic among 
gentlemen, is it not? 

Ckc. (foii't/c.) Modified sarcasm. 

Fkoth. Oil, a bet on a horse is difleront fnim any- 
thing else. 

Ceo. Comet is Mr. Herrick's horse, isn't he. 

Froth. Yes, and a splendid horse he is. Bound 
to beat the Held. I regard the case as settled in 
advance. 

Cec. {(tsidc.) Poor C'ount. But then I suiipose 

he can afford to lose. 
Kiv. AU, Mee.ster Holland, you quite make me 

to tremble for my little stake. 
Dr. B. (<(.<!>/('.) Calls five thousand a little stake. 
Rrv. And really, to speak candidly, I believe you 

shall win from me ; Comet is a splendid animal. 
Froth. Of course. Count, if you have changed 

your mind I wont hold you. 
Riv. Oh. oh, my elear sir. By no means would I 

permit an_y such generosity. Shoidd you win, 

I shall be the first to congratulate you on your 

good fortune. My stake is a mere bagatelle. 
Cec. ((/side.) The Monte Cristo ! 
Dr. B. {aside to Froth.) You are in pretty deep 

on Comet, aren't you ? 
Froth. Deeper than I care to admit. If he 

should lose, it would be rather serious ; but then 

he can't lose, you know. 
Dr. B. You make me anxious. 
Riv. Happily we shall not long be kept in sus- 
pense. I haf quite a forelioding that it is I who 

shall have to sign a cheque. You are lucky, is 

it not ? 
Froth. Not always, but this time I think I have 

you. Count. At all hazards Comet must win. 
Riv. {aside.) At all hazards Cotoet must /osc. 
Cec. I think so too, Frothinghara. 

Dear me ! you'll scarcely know what to do 

with your money after Tuesda}'. 
1 »n. B. He can sjiend it all injsending you flowers, 

Cecily. 
Froth. Eh '? 
Cec. Pshaw! Speaking of (lowers, you ought to 

see the new hydrani;eas. Will you come to the 

conservatory, everybody ? 
Froth. As t'tie person addressed, I reply, ine will 

come. 
Mrs. H. Excellent, Cecily. Olive, dear, will you 

show the Count the new palms. I shall join 

yon presently. I want to speak a few words here 

with the doctor. 
Dr. B. Aha. 

Ol. I hope flowers don't bore you, Count. 
Riv. Nothing can bore me in your society Mees 

Holland, and flowers least of all. 



Froth, [a.'iide to Cecili/.) .Should yciu like me to 
send you some buds, Cecily. 

Cec. Oh. yes ; long stems, they're so nice for book- 
markers. Ha, ha, ha. 

{E.reunl (ydl)/ <nnl Frotliiii;/h(im, Left.) 

Oi,. We shall look for you jire.sently, mamma. 

Mrs. H. In five minutes, dear. 

Riv. {a.'iide to Olive. } Y'our Howers are all so frail 
ill this country, is it not'? 

Oi.. They are like ourselves— capable of bearing 

more than their looks indicate. 
Riv. Ah. 

{E.rewtt. Olive and Hivelli, Left.) 

Mrs. H. I sent them ahead. Doctor, so that 1 
might say a word about a matter that has been 
troubling me. I suppose you find me a great 
nuisance, but you know I have no other man of 
ati'airs to advise with. 

Db. B. My dear Mrs. Holland, I am but too happy 
to serve you. What is the matter? 

Mrs. H; Have you yet found a purchaser for tlie 
Barrington mortgage ? 

Dr. B. No, but there will be no difliculty— that 
is — - 

Mrs. H. The fact is, I should like to negotiate it 
as speedily as possible. 

(Rivelli enters at back and pauses, listemng, hat vnoh- 
served.) 

Dr. B. You desire ready money ? 

JIrs. H. Well. Frothingham's losses, you see, 
and-and-numerons unexpected demands have— 

Dr. B: Ah, I quite understand, my dear Mrs. Hol- 
land. I shall find a purchaser for the mortgage 
forthwith. 

And now if you'll pardon me, I must be oflf. 
{Lookin;/ at watch.) It's want of form I know, 
but I have an appointment at nine. Please 
make my excuses to the others. 

Mrs. H. Certainly. Very sorry to lose vou, but a 
])hysician is always excusable. And that re- 
minds me that I too am staying too long away. 
I must go to the conservatory. ^ 

Riv. {Coniiiuj doien.) Ahem. 

Mrs. H. Ah, Count, 

Riv. a thousand pardons. I haf come back for 
Mees Holland's wrap. The air is slightly chill 
in the conservatory. 

{Rirelli takes vp a soft light sltaiel from the hack of one 
of the chairs.) 

I think this is it. 

Mrs. H. You are very good, sir. So sorry vou must 
go Doctor. ■ ■ 

Dr. B. {Going.) Madam, I am the loser. 

Mrs. H. I expect the girls think that I am lost. 

Riv. I will follow you in one moment, Signora. 

(E.rit Mrs. H., Left.) 

Dr. V,. Good day, Count. I have left my hat in 
the ante-room. 

Riv. One moment, my dear sir. (Detaiiiinq him 
as he IS aljout to go.) Just now as I enter, I acci- 
dently overhear words of a certain leetfe mort- 
gage, is it not? There, there, I would haf at 
once retire but it was too late. I could not help 
but hear. Now, sir, I have means unemployed 
and if— perhaps I might serve you. ' 

Dr. B My dear sir, you are certainly extremely 

Riv. By no means: ze kindness is to me to me 
sir. I would beg to become the imrclia.s'er. ' 



J.)i;. B. But tlie rato ? 

Iv[V. At .sucli rate as you can iie^jotiate elsewliei'i;. 
that is all 1 ask, sir — all I ask, 

Dr. B. My dear Count, tliis is very liberal. 1 am 
sure that Mrs. Holland will appreriate — 

Kiv. Oh — no, no, no, no, no. She must know 
nothin;^. It would be a constraint upon our so- 
eial relation. lie who mixes up business vith 
social intercourse unties ze devil very ipieeek. 
ylie must by no means be inlormed. You can 
say that you haf made satisl'actory arrangement. 
Tliatisall. You are the practical man for the 
Signora, is it not? 

Dii. B. I may say that I am. Since the death of 
Mr. HoUan'dj she has depended nuich upon my 
counsel in matters of investment and so-lbrth. 

Riv. Oh ; then, my dear doctor, perhaps you 
Would do me one leetle favor? 

Dk. B. With the greatest pleai5ure ; with the ccri/ 
greatest jilcasure- 

Eiv. Thank you. I de.sire to invest some amounts, 
but. as you know, I am foreigner. As you have 
made every investigation for the Signora, per- 
haps \'ou would advise me as to what securities 
you have thought best to b\iy for her account. 
1 could then place my money in the same— eh? 
yi'u I'atch my meaning? 

Dii. r>. rorfectly, |ierfe<-tly. I'll make you a little 
schedule of the [niucipal sci-urities at once. Y'ou 
don't care for details. I supjjose? 

I\i\- llv no means, {aside.) I will make ze de- 
tail. 

{Dr. II. ■lil.': Ill xiiiiill liihlr, A'., mid im'itcs. JCiilir iit 
littvk 11 srri'iinl.) 

Sehv.vni'. The ( 'ouut ( 'avalli's valet waits below. 
lie has brought this. (I'ri'itiiitinij I.etlrr.) 

Riv. lOiinihiij hiter.) Ila. {(mdf.) This is awk- 
ward. If he should enc<)unter /(pr.' But there's 
no help; I must risk it. (tdoud.) Show my 
valet uji. 

{Servcnd hoirx ami i;xH.) 

{Aiiidc.) This is a dangerous business. If he 
shouhl discover the truth, it would .spoil all and 
rob me of my sweet, sweit 'revenge. One glinipso 
of her face and his heart would fail him, I am 
sure of it. How could he suppose, how coidd 
anyone have guessed? Ah. 

{Enter, III liiirl:, ]'iriiiiii, ilrrxxril. iix Coniil ViividlPx 
valet. 

Ver. Ha, Uivelli, 1 came 

{liirilli snddiidij kIijjis lum liy a i/csliire, pointing to 
DiHior lirigi/s, whom Vimon Itan not seni.. The. 
latter'^ manner suddenly clianijes and he liiin-^ re- 
spectfidly to Uivelli.) 

Eiv. {to Vernon.) Pietro, you have a message for 
me, is it not ? 

Ver. Si, signor. 

Dr. B. {Rising.) There Count. I have given 
}'ou a statement "En bloc" as we .say. I tlltnk 
I have included all the main items. Of course 
you'll consider it as strictly for your own use. 

(Handing paper.) 

Riv. {With a deprecatory geslnrc.) My dear sir! 

Dr. B. And now I must be off. 

Riv. The gentleman's hat, Pietro. 'Tis in the 
ante-room. 

Ver. ( With an effort.) Si, signor. 
/ {E.rit Vernon, It.) 

/Dr. B. I shall send you full particulars of the 



organizat on of the Couii)auy. uiy dear Count, 

liiv. Y' on speak of 

Dk. B. The tly-trap concern, you know. 

liiv. Oh yes. Pray send nie full particulars. I 

consume with interest. 

{Enter R., ]'ernmi irlth Dr. IJrii/i/s' lull.) 

Dk. B. And I shall have the other instrument 
executed in the morning. 

Riv. I shall be ready, doctor. 

{Di: B. takes hat and bows himself nut at Back.) 

Ver. What instrument is that, Rivelli ? 

Riv. a trifle of fifty thousand dollars, Signor 
Vernon. 

Ver. And where is that to come from? 

Riv. That part of the business pertains to Signor 
Vernon. {Bowing low.) 

Ver. Ye gods ! 

Riv. Oh.'tis but a commencement, signor. 'Tis 
an ex]iensive luxury, this revenging oneself 
upon one's enemies. It comes high, but we must 
have it, as ze Americans say. Ha, ha, ha. 

Vkr. Bah 1 And what is this money for ? 

Riv. Merely an investment. You will have 
splendid security — the Hollands' Barrington es- 
tate. 

Ver. Heavens! How did you manage that ? 

Riv. Finesse. 

Ver. Capital, capital. 

Riv. Y'es, and income too. Ha, ha, ha. 

Ver. We must lind out just how their means are 
invested. But how to do it is the question. 

I; IV. The answer to which is here. 
{Handing him [iiijier.) 

Ver. What is this? 

Riv. Simply a .schedule of the .secui-ities in which 

Mrs. Holland has her fortune. 
Vel. The devil ! 
Riv. Precisely, signor. Pie is ze agent I emjiloy 

in these leetle affairs. 
Ver. Pah ! AVere it n<;>t for the sacred cause I 

have in hand, my heart and soul would cry out 

against this bitter scheme ; but, as it is 

Riv. As it is ? 

V. I will do anything; suH'cr anything, even the 

degradation of mas(|iici'adiiig as the valet of 

such a thing as yoa! 
Riv. {Smiliiii/ sardoiiindly.) My best thanks to the 

Signor. 
V. Y'ou under.stand. I wmild biiiiiiliatc this 

woman and her family. 
R. Y'es, yes, yes. I understand with matlu-ina- 

tical accuracy, Signor. The first step to humil- 
iation is poverty, eh ? 
V. Yes. 

R. Poverty begets temptation — dilliiulty, eh ? 
V. That is it. 
R. Difhculty ojiens ze door for tlie bestowal of 

favors. 
V. Precisely. 
R. And acceptance of favors puts them in our 

power. 
V. Devil! 
R. Thanks. 
V. Your logic is perfect. Go on, you shall not 

want for money. 
R. {aside.) Dear sainted Sir Hugh. 
V. But mark me, Rivelli, no tricks : I have but 



a sin;j;lo object in view. You are my instrument 
for tlie accomplishment of that alone. If you 
alj;i,-<e the liberty I give, it were better for you 
that you had not been born. 

R. I seek but to serve the Sigu'jr faithfully. Ha, 
soiire one is coming. 

^^ Remember, no trifling. 

(Enter L. Frothingham.) 

Fhotu. Ah, Count, I came to hunt you up, 

E. I crave pardon ; my valet brought me an im- 
portant mes.sage, and I was just giving some ne- 
cessary directions. ( I'o ]'cnioii.) That will do, 
Pietro"; you may go. 

V. 8i, Signer. 

F. Ah, here comes Olive — I suppose to hunt me 
up. Ha, ha, ha. 

K. (agide.) She! /»■ must not see her. [To IVr- 
noH.) That will do, Pietro; you may go. 

V. One moment, Signor. There is something 
else. 

li. Not now. 

V. But Signor 

H. (Sharply.) Go. 

V. [agide to R:) How dare you ! 

H. [aside to V-) 'Tis necessary, (aloud.) Go at 
once. 



OnvE. (Heard from iiilhin.) I'll return in one 

moment, mamma. 
K. (aside.) Perdition! 

(Enter L. Olive ; a.i xlie enters liireUi iifla the ahawl in 
Itis hand so as to conceal her face from Vernon.) 

R. (Impernlively to Vernon.) Go ! 

( Vernoii darts an angry glance at hiin, hiU restrains 
hiiiifielf and bows and exits at Back.) 

11. (Placing the .shawl upon her slioiilders.) A thou- 
sand apologies, Signorina. 

F. Your servant has a remarkably intelligent 
face, Count. 

R. Yes, a faithful fellow. I picked him up on 
the Continent. (To Oliee.) Now, mees, I am 
once more all to you, will you show me the 
-palms? 

(Prothingham leans upon tahle id right, villi a puzzled 
exjJression on liis face. Rinlli holih one hand to- 
ward Olive, and with the other indicates the direction 
of the Conservatory. Olive is near the centre of stage', 
facing Rivelli.) 




END OF ACT I. 



^GT II. 



Drawing Room of Mrs. Holland as in Act First. 
Morning. 

Olive discovered pacing the room with, an open letter 
in Her hand. 

Olive, (sola.) Pah ! These suave phrases, — 
smoothly turned sentences which ex]ires8 
nothing that is real, nothing that is lasting. 
How I liate them all ! 

A fonnal proposal for my hand — addressed to my 
mother, as tliough I were a piece of bric-a-bra'e 
or a family clock to be transferred, sold or <lo- 
nated. A proposal for a hand which he must 
surely know cannot carry a heart with it; for 
tlie man doesn't lack acuteness of observation, 
whatever his other iiiilings. And why does he 
seek me? Love? Hardly. There is something 
about him which seems to place him outside the 
reach of ordinary sentiments ; something ficti- 
tious, hateful. A foreign nobleman who seeks 
an American wife lays himself open to the 
suspicion of fortune hunting. And yet he knows 
of our reverses, and the knowledge seems to 
have made no difference in his attentions. 

The news of this last heavy loss which has pros- 
trated my mother, is followed, almost ac- 
companied—by the Count Cavalli's proposition. 
I cann(jt imderstand it ; I cannot bear it ! How 
should I marry a man for whom I can feel 
nothing but disgust? How take out of mv heart 

the image of that other who but " hush ! 

that thought is buried even from myself; I must 
not think of that ; I must not, I must not. Oh ! 
What am I to do ? 

(Enter R. Cecily.) 

C- What are you to do ? Why, tell me all about 
it ; that's tlie lirst thing to do. 

O. Ah, Cecily, you may thank Pleaven for having 



given you so light a heart; mine is heavy enough. 
C. So I should suppose. When one discovers a 
girl wringing her hands and asking surrounding 
space what she's to do, it's a natural infereni'e 
that her spirits aren't buoyant, to say the least. 
What's the matter ? 

0. You have perhaps noticed the manner of 
Count Cavalli towai-ds me, Cecily, and 

C. Ahem. Just look closely in my eye, will you ; 
it's a good eye ; made to .see with. Well, I've 
got two of 'em. And you ask me whether I've 
noticed Count Cavalli's manner! Y'ou're really 
funny, Olive. 

O. Well — in fact — the matter has culminated . . 

C. Matters generally do ... . 

0. In — in— a proposal 

C. Of course. You'll look just lovely, dear. Neck 
decollete, old Valenciennes at the sleeves and 
bust ; overskirt of creana satin ; white ruches, 
and that string of grandmother Frothiugliani's 
pearls. Oh, do hurry, won't you? it will be 
just too dreadfully jolly for words. And then 
when .... 

O. For Heaven's sake stop Cecily ! You dri\e 
me wild! I despise this Count from the depths 
of my soul. You talk of the whole matter as 
though it were a fete for the amusement (jf an 
idle hour. Can't^ you see how solemn a thing 
marriage is? 

C. Yes ; it's a pretty funereal arrangement some- 
times, that's a fact. 

0- Can y(3U not find it in your heart to pity me, 
rather than to start a fusilade of wretched 
ba<linage ; a torrent of childish w-ords which 
express little and mean less? 

C. Thanks awfully . . . 



lu 



O. The very tlniught of this uniuii is hateful to 
me beyond expression. 

C. Then why think about it ? 

0. Simply because my mother, who has expended 
life and strength and money for me,- who has 
reared me in luxury,— educated, protected, 
planned for me; my mother who has never 
spared herself when she could do for me, — now 
asks me to accept this match for ha- sake ;— for 
the sake of tlie family fortunes, which are 
broken. My mother, overwhelmed with the 
disasters that have overtaken us, hands me this 
letter with the seal of her blessing and com- 
mendation ujion it, and bids me accept the offer 
of the CounJ. Cavilli as a repayment of the filial 
debt I owe to her. 

C. That is awkward ; but surely my aunt does 
not know .... 

O.' Nor shall she. It is the best proof of my trust 
in you, dear Cecily, that I confide in your dis- 
cretion and your sileni-e. Whatever the future 
may hold in store for me, my mother must never 
know that which is so bitter within my heart at 
this moment 

C. And you will marry at your mother's bidding, 
even though you cannot love? 

0. I will avoid such a misery if I can find a way 
to do so ; but if the sacrifice of myself is the 
only escape for us all, then I will make that 
sacrifice. 

C. Evenif . . . ? 

0. Even if my heart should break. 

C. But why should we talk of breaking hearts? 
You might learn to lo\'e even a Count, eh ? 

0. Never. 

C. {aside.) There's somebody else- ((iJowJ.) That's 
a long while. 

O. Yes, a long while- 

C. I wish you wouldn't sigh so sadly, Olive. Why 
are you so sure you couldn't learn to love him? 
Is there another occ\ipant in possession ? 

0. Cecily, it would be kinder to help me than to 
question me. 

C. So I should, if you would be frank. Better 
make a clean breast of it. If you're in love 
already, why not say so ? 

O. It is only school-girls at the brea<l-and-butter 
age who imagine themselves in love every time 
they have an attack of indigestion. I believe 
that a woman least knows when she reall)- loves. 

C. Likely. If you'll tell me your exact symptoms 
I'll let you know just what your condition is. 

O. You are very absurd Cecily. 

(Frothingham enters unobserved at back, and pauses.) 

C. That's a good symptom, to begin with. When 
a girl falls in love, she invariably begins by 
thinking all other girls absurd. What color are 
his eyes, Olive ? 

O. Whose eyes ? 

C. Why his, of course. 

0. I dont know whom you mean. 

C. Mem : Good .symptom number two. A girl 
in love never knows who is meant when he is 
spoken of. Now tell me, do you feel an indes- 
cribable desire to tease him on all occasions ? 
Do you always want to tantalize mm just to see 
how devoted he'll become? Do you treat him 
the most cavalierly when j'ou feel the tenderest 
towards him ? Because that's the way a girl 
behaves when she is really in love. 

F. (cnming liovm.) Js it ? , 

C. Ua ! 



O. l'"riitliingham, you there ? 

C Eavesdropjiing ? 

F. No, only listening. Ila, ha, ha. 

O. And you have heard . . . . ? 

F. Only Cecily's vivid descrijition of the way 

she's been treating m.e for a month. Never 

heard such an accurate bit of narrative in my 

life. 
O. And you have heard nothing more ? 
F. Nothing more, on my honor. I entered but a .i 

moment ago. 

C. Ujion my word, sir, your conduct is inex- 
cusable. Besides, I was speaking in a general 
wa)'. You have no right to make personal aji- 
plications. I don't know what you mean by 
alluding to yourself, anyhow. 

F. Mem : Good symptom. A girl in love never 
knows who is meant when lie is spoken of, eh ? 

C. Pshaw ! You're absolutely silly. 

O- (aside.) There is no room here for either me 
or my sorrow. 

F. Anyhow, I don't see why you should so per- 
si.stently snub me. 

C. I don't snub you. 

F. Well, it may be Undiluted caressing, but it 
doesn't seem so. Ah, you are not going, Olive ? 

O. {wlio Jias riHnvd towards exit.) Yes, I must sec 
mamma for a few minutes. I want her to conn- 
down here fiir a while for a change- 

C. Oh, don't go, Olive ; we shall .... 

O. Be so lonely without me ; yes, I know, [aside.) 
Happy pair of geese that they are ! 

C. Don't be absurd .... 
{Exit Olive, R.) 

F. Good .symptom number two. When a girl falls 
in love she invariably begins by . . . , 

C. Sir! 

F. Ila, ha, ha. So you have diagnosed the 
symptoms of people in love, have you ? 

C. Go away. I am thorougly angry with \-ou. 

F. Oh. 

C. Yes, I am -thoroughly. As if it wasn't my 
duty to cheer poor Olive up in any way I could- 
I .saw she was terribly dow'u-hearted, and when 
I rattled off some nonsense, purely as— as — 

F. A medicine 

C. Yes, purely as a medicine for — for — 

F. For her shattered nerves 

C. Yes, for her .shattered nerves, you meanl J stole 
in and listened. 

F. Oh— meanly ? 

C. Yes sir, meanly ! 

F. Cecily, you shouldn't apply such terms to my 
actions ; it isn't what I have a right to exi)ect. 

C. Indeed ! And what have you a rigid to expec-t, 
I should like to kuow- 

F. You know very well that we have all along 
understood .... 

C. Don't say "we," if you please. If you'll have 
the g0(jdness to sjjeak for yourself .... 

F. Oh, very well, it won't inconvenience me in 
the least to do that .... 

C. Ah, is it so? The truth is out at last then ; 
I've always suspected your sincerity . . I . . 

F. Now, don't be rediculous. 

C. "Ridiculous." Pardon me, sir, if I say that 
you are a very poor judge of what is ridicu- 
lous .... 






j 



I 



11 



F. And purinit me to renuu'k that yimr are not 

well fitted to bt-come iV reii.sor. 
C. NTor anything else, in your eyes, I suppose. 
F. I didn't say so. 
C. But that's what you meant. 
F. How do you know vvluit I meant? 
C. Have you an idea tliat you're too pnifound a 

person to be understood ? Ha, ha, ha. 
F. I request, Miss Mari;..;old, tliat you will not 

laugh in that tone ; it's unbearable. 
(_'. Let me inform you, IMr. Holland, that your 

opinion is of very little conseiiuenee to me. Also 

that there is a limit to what you can say to me. 
F. .\nd let me remind i/ou that even the trodden 

worm will turn at last. 
C. Well, for a worm you're a remarkably healthy 

specimen. 
F. That's not a particle funny. 
C. Then I wouldn't listen. 
F. I wont. 

(jF. .'icaJ.s himself angrily (it riijld iiiid lakes up news- 
paper.) 

C. Yon wont have occasion. I shall not speak 
another word to you this day. 

( C. seats herself angrily at left, with her back towards 
F. She takes up eiahroidery and slitclies wildly. 
A pause.) 

C. Besides, I don't .see why .... 

F. Hey '? 

C. Nothing, (aside.) Pah ! 

[Another pause, during which each steals a look at the 
other. ' Once their eyes meet and each suddenly turns, 
F- feigning to be absorbed in his newspaper and C. 
in her work.) 

C Just as if you had any right . . .' . 

F. Hey? 

C. Nothing ! 

F. Ha ! (aside.) How pretty Iier pfofile is. 

Confound it all ! 
C. {a.iide.) He deserved a good les.sou. 
(A 2Mnse.) 
Guess he'll not assume so much next time. 
(^1 pause.) 

I inighn't to have called him mean, though. He 

never was that. 
F. .Seems to me, Miss Marigold .... 
C. Hey ? 
F. Nothing. (a.-<ide.) Wonder how long she 

means to keep it up. 

(A pause.) 
C. (aside.) If he'd say he was sorry. 
(A pause.) 

F. (a.nde.) I can't stand this sort of thing very 

long, (aloud.) Ahem. Did you sjjeak ? 
C. . I did not sir. 
F. Oh, pardon me 
C. Don't mention it. (axide.) He's thawing. 

(.1 pause.) 
C. Did you malce a remark, sir ? 
F. Eh ! I beg pardon, I was absorbed in the 

European despatches. 
C Pray don't let >"e interfere with anything so 

entertaining. 
F. ('iside.) She's softening. 



(^1 pause.) 

('. (aside.) It's just contemiitibie in him to stick 
it out in this fashion. 

F. Ha, ha, ha. It's very amusing, I declare. 

C. Sir, I? 

F. No ; the Tory debate in the House of Com- 
mons. 

(lie buries himself in his newspaper.) 

C. Oh. (amle.) I wonder if be thinks he can 
fool me that way. 

(She buries herself in Iter embroidery.) 
(A pause.) 
C. Tut, tut ; it's too [lerplexing ! 
F. I? 

C. No, this stich. Pray go on with your de- 
spatches, (aside.) Hail him there. 
F. Oh. (aside.) Little fiend ! 
(A jiause.) 

C. You know very well that is was mean in you 
to, steal in and listen to wdiat I said to Olive. 

F. (aside.) Thank goodness ! I was on the point 
of knocking under" (aloud.) (Jpon my word, I 
came upon you quite by accident, and then, 
wdien I heard you so accurately describing your 
own treatment of me, I couldn't choose but 
listen. 

C. I nevei- treated you that way .... 

F. Indeed vou have. Snubbed me to distraction. 
Don't you" remember . . . . ? (He crosses.) 

C. It isn't at all necessarv for you to sit so close, 
Mr. Holland. 

F. Oh, excuse me, Miss Marigold. Will that do? 

C. That's better. 

F. Surely you remember the innumerable occa- 
sions when you have cut me off short in the mid- 
dle of my most ardent protestations, when . . . 

C. You had no business to make ardent protes- 
tations . ■ (aside.) The dear fello^ ! 

F. Not when I .... ? 

C. Ahem. I beg pardon. What about Comet ? 
This is the day, isn't it ? 

F. Now there you go again. Just when I was 
going to say something poetical you ask me about 
the races. ' It's maddening, Cecily .... 

C. Ah — I beg pardon .... 
F. I mean Miss Marigold. C!an't a'fellow descant 
on the affections without being brought up with 
a round turn .... 

C. "Brought up with a round turn ! " Now 

there's a poetical plirase for you ! Ugh ! Besides, 

who ever heard of a square turn ? 
F. It's your fault ; you're enough to turn a chap 

gray ! ^ 

C. Thank you, Mr. Holland .... 
F. AVith your enchanting witcheries, eh ? 
C. Oh, that's better, (aside.) I could hug him 

when he talks like that. 

F. As to the races, they are over by this, I sup- 
pose. I'm expecting a telegram every moment. 
I sent Hopkins down and he'll telegraph me 
direct from the tield, so I shall soon be out of 
misery on that score. But as to the other mat- 
ter .... 

C. The aflections . . . • 

F. Precisely. You seem determined to keep me 
perennially on the anxious bench. 



c 

F. 
C. 
F. 



C. I don't comprehend wliat I have to do with it, 

I'm sure. 
C. No ? Then I'll explain. To begin with I'm a 

fellow who does nothing by halves .... 
C. So I should suppose. 
F. [aside.) Now what the deuce does slie mean 

by that? (aloxid.) If— if— I like a girl— er— I 

like her .... 
C. Surprising ! 

F. (oxide.) More covert satire ! [aloud.) Now . . 
■ I — er — like you .... 
C. Therefore .... 

F. I like you. 
Extraordinary ! 
What ? The fact or the logic ? 
Both. Go on. 
Well, it's particularly hard on such a fellow 

wdien a girl is continua'Uy making game of him. 
It's dispiriting, you know. 

G. Yes? [aside.) I've got him where I want 
him. 

F. It is, indeed. And besides, it isn't always safe 
for the girl. 

C. Eh! 

F. [af^ide.) I think I have her nicely, [aloud.) 
Fact I assure you. You remember the fairy 
tale of the Lady oi the Valley Beautiful ? 

C. No. Do tell it to me. 

F I'm not good at rhetorical flourishes, but the 
pith of the'story is that there was once a beauti- 
ful lady who lived in the Valley Beautiful and 
who, of course, had many admirers. But the 
most devoted among them was a knight who had 
nothing to oiler but a strong arm and the devo- 
tion of an honest heart .... 

C. Enough for any woman .... 

F You think so? Well, the Knight was so de- 
voted that he finally won the love of the lady, 

but she was by nature a coquette ; You know 

what a coquette is, I suppose ? 

C. Coquette, CoqiicUa - — f Oh yes, made of 

chopped chicken, isn't it? 
F. Cecily ! 
C. Sir ! 

F. Beg pardon,— ilfes Marigold. 
C. -Vh. 
F. As I was saying, the lady loved to dally and 

tantalize and play with her adorer, just like- er 

—a kitten with a mouse .... 
C. Or a spider with a fly ... . 

F. Or 

C. Never mind the similes ; go on with the story. 
F. But the true-hearted Knight continued his 

suit .... 
C. Quite right in him. 
F. You think so ? 
Q Yes that is — it ims all right in a fairv tale. 

Fairy tales are such mediicval things, you know, 

and mediaeval people had such queer ideas. You 

see what I mean? 
F. [a.wl.e.) I think I do. [aloud.) Tlie Knight, 

as I was saying, continued his suit. He plead 

his cause with eloquence with ardor 

C. How jolly ! 

F. For him ? 

C. No ; for her. 

F. Ah. He poured out his love in verses . . . 

C. Delightful ! 



F. And made no end of sonnets to her eye- 
brow .... 

L. Had she only one ? 

F. No, she had one ovei- each eye, but a sonnet 
could only hold one at a time. 

C. Oh, I see. 

F. So did she ; but all the same she remained 
adamant .... 

C. That was hard .... 

F. And is so still. Well, so it went on till at last 
he took to serenading her nightly. 

C. Huw romantic ! 

F. Yes, and rheumatic too. 

C. What, for:,her ? 

F. No, for him. 

0. Oh. 

F. AVell, it at last it conquered .... 

C. The romance ? 

F. No, the rheumatism. He dropped the guitar 
from his hands and took the catarrh on his 
chest .... 

C. That's vile ! 

F. The catarrh ? 

C. No, the pun. 

F. Yes, all puns are. To resume, the Knight be- 
came ill, but still the Lady of the Viilley Beauti- 
ful gave no sign, tliough she loved him, mind 
you, all the time. 

C. Of course. Any fool might know that . . . 

F. Ahem .... 

C. That is . . in . . a fairy tale. 

F. Then, when he got well he renewed, his suit, 
but she hesitated to say yes. 

C. Then he asked a second time and .... 

F. Nothing of the kind. He immediately married 
a wealthy widow who lived on the hili. 

C. Tlie brute ! 

F. The widow ? 

C No, the Knight. 

F. But what about the Lady of the Valley Beau- 
tiful ? 

C. She was just like other women, — like to be 

wooed. 
F. Oh, she was, was she? 
C. That is — in — a — er fairy tale .... 
F. And so, if I should find a Lady of the Valley 

Beautiful, and make love to her and write verses 

^nd make sonnets .... ' 

C. To both her eyebrows, please .... 
F. Yes, to both her eyebrows. And serenaile 

her .... 
C. Oh yes, I'm .so fond of music on the night 

air .... 
F. Youf 
C. That is— oh !— 

[C. jumps up emharassed and runs out at left. F. 
tries to stop her but fails.) 

F. (sofas.) Bewitching little creature ! 

(A sudden knock at the door. C.) 

Ha I ('ome in. 

[A servant hands in a telegram, and exit.) 

F. [solus.) Ha! From Hopkins ! I'm absolutely 
sure that Covtet must have won, but— how a fel- 
low's hand shakes sometimes ! There's so much 
at .stake. But of course it's a sure thing, Pshaw ! 
This is womanish ! 



13 



[Hi' nvoltilelii opens h'lcgi'din nml xUiiix.) 

Great Heaven ! "Comet has lust by a iiei-k." 
Mv iiiotlier! How am I to tell Iwr f ' 
Oh fool, fool, fool! 

( Enter R, Mrs. Holland leaning on Olive's arm.) 

O. I'm sure yo u'll feel I>etter soon, mamma. You 
had best sit here for a while ; you are hardly fit 
for exercise to-day. 

Mrs. H. No, I am weaker than 1 thought, dear. 

{Frothingham piishes chair for her.) 

Thanks, Frothingham ; I scarcely expected to 
lind you here at this hour. 

F. No . . I— I . . 

Mrs. H. Ah. What is the matter my son? You 
loolc pale -tro\ihled. 

F. Oh nothing, - nothing, I assure you. I was up 
late last night, and — and .... 

O. ((iside.) What can have happened ? 

Mrs H. But there is something. Ha ! That let- 
ter in your hand, — a telegram, — it is a telegram. 
Something is the matter. You cannot deceive 
me even if you would. Speak ; I have learned 
to bear so much that your news can hardly make 
me worse. What has happened ? 

F. Do not ask .... 

Mrs. H. I demand to know. 

F. Comet .... 

O. Has lost ? 

F. Has lost. 

Mrs. H. Oh ! 

O- Give her a glass of water. 

Jlrs. H. No. I need nothing. See, I am strong, 
strong. I — I — had hoped tliat we should have 
.saved something out of the wreck of our proper- 
ty ; but now, even that remnant must go. After 
all, it is only a matter of accounting. Do not 
grieve. 

O- My poor mother ! (a-nde.) The sacrifice is 

mine ! 
F. Believe me, mother, I am overwhelmed with 

sorrow. What ^ould you have me do ? 

Mrs. H. Pay your losses like a man and a gentle- 
man. The honor of your father's name mu.st 
never know a taint. I thank heaven that 
though our fortune has crumbled away like ashes, 
we are still able to pay cent per cent. The cash 
im deposit with Du Barry & Co., is.still untouched 
and will meet your losses. Hand me that cheque- 
book. 

F. Alas ! Mother, I cannot bear .... 

Mrs. H. Be good enough to oblige me ; thank 
you. Now take pen and i«iper and foot up the 
amount. Come, I am weak. Be quick, my son. 

(Froth seali himself at table and makes hasty memo- 
randa. Mrs. H. prepares to write out a cheque.) 

0. (a»ide to Mrs. H.) How can I help you mam- 
ma ? 
Mrs. H. My dear child, you are powerless except 



O- (aside.) And that one way is worse to me than 

death, {aloud.) 1 will trj' to do my best- 
Mrs. H. If you try, you will succeed; those who 

really ti'y always do. 
F. [rising and handing paper to Mrs. JI.) There 

is the terrible truth, mother. I must face it, 

though it cuts me to the soul. 
Mrs. H. Thank heaven that honor still remains 

in one way. If you choose that way, your power 
is nearly immeasurable. 

(writing cheque.) 

F. It will absorb nearly the entire balance at Du 
Barry's 

Mrs. H. Yes. But let us be grateful that we have 
the balance there to draw upon. My, signiture 
to this little piece of paper makes it as good as 
bank notes or gold. There my son .... 

(hands him cheque.) 
F. This means penury .... 
Mrs. H. This means honesty. Go. 

The voice of Dr. Briggs is heard, from without : No, 
never mind announcing me. I must go in at 
once. 

O. Ah! The doctor .... 

(Enter hastily at hack. Dr. Br'iggs.) 

Dr. B. Ah ! Olive my child ; Frothingham ; my 
dear Mrs. Holland .... 

F. What is it, doctor ? You look flustered 

Mrs. H. For heaven's sake, doctor, speak I Is 
there any new disaster? 

Dr. B. My dear friend, are you able to bear a 
piece of most unwelcome intelligence ? 

Mrs. H. I am able to bear anything except sus- 
pense. Speak. 

Dr. B. I hardly dare to ; and yet — and j'et you 
must know. I beg you to fortify yourself for bad 
news. 

O. In mercy*be quick. 

Dr. B. T)u Barry & Co. have just failed for two 
millions. 

Mrs. H. (partly rising.) Qih.'Res,w&a.\ And — and — 
the depositors ? 

Dr. B. Will receive nothing. 

F. (staring wildly at the cheque in his hand.) Worth- 
less! 

{Mrs. H. utters a cry and swooms in her chair.) 

0. (falling on her knees at centre.) It must be 
done. 

(Dr. B. leans over Mrs. H., feels her pulse, then hasti- 
ly draws a syphon-jar from his coat-tail pocket and 
plays llie contents over her. Quick curtain. 



DR. B. 


0. 




# 


* 


T. 


♦ 




* 


MRS. H. 







END OF ACT SECOND. 



14 



^GT ZII 



Quartfrs of the "Count CavalU," in New York. One 
of a snite of ajiartmi'nts. Boorwat/s right and left, lead- 
ing to onnminiiniting rooms. At back a snsh window- 
door, ( practicable) leading to balcony without. A atr- 
tained alcove at left back. One or two works of art on 
easels. An ottoman near centre of room. A small table 
at right with decanter of loine and glasses. Chimney 
place with fire at right. An easy chair in front of it. 
Lighted lamps on table. As the curtain rises, Rivelli is 
in the act of pouring out a gla^s of wine, which he drinks 
before speaking. 

E. {solus.) What apower is money ! A ujanmav 
struggle all liis life iorfame, and perhaps— if he 
is very lucky— he will get a complimentary 
epitaph on his tombstone. But with money, he 
is a king at the start. 

AsTonio Rivelli I am a lai-key, with great aspira- 
tions^and a deep grudjre ; as the Count Cavalli, 
with tlie late lamented Sir Hugh's millions at 
my back, I bend events to my liking. It is my 
will to ruin the family of Holland, and the fam"- 
ily of Holland is accordingly ruined. The son 
bets heavily on the right horse ; by a judicious 
expenditure of money, the jockey is induced to 
lose the race by a neck, and the son loses a for- 
tune as the result. The daughter would fain mar- 
ry according to her own wishes; I apply my little 
wand of Midas, and she marries according to 
mine. The Signora needs money on lier estate, 
I advance it and ze estate is in my power ; she 
places her funds with the Vianking" house of Du 
Barry, not knowing that the firm is my debtor 
to an enormous amount; good ; I call my loan at 
sight, the firm cannot respond, I sell mv security 
and bankrupt the linn ; the Signora loses a for- 
tune as the result. Ha, ha, ha. Money ! money ! 

And do you think. Master Kustace Vernon that 
it is for you I do this vat you c«ll "bitter busi- 
ness?" No, it is rtf/ai/is* you. You think I would 
marry this Miss Holland so that you can then 
tell her and her mother the truth— that I am but 
a paid lackey. That you can crush them beneath 
their humiliation. That you can avenge the 
wrongs of Sir Hugh Calvert upon tliis whole fam- 
ily. You little know that this girl is y(nir ideal, 
—your Stella,— for who.se welfare you "would wil- 
lingly lay down your life ; — whose features you 
have painted on your canvas in Rome ! It i.s ze 
irony of fate. Master Vern(jn I You ou<-e struck 
me, me, on ze face with your riding-wliip. Ze 
scar is yet here, and it burns me even as I think ! 
I have learned to wait— for my revenge. It will 
come ven i ])resent you to your ideal as my wife J 
Ha, lia, ha. My wife ! Made my wife by your 
own intrif ne,— by your own money ! Ha, ha, ha. 
'Tis as good as a stage-piece. Zese people are 
my puppets - all— ; Vernon with his artistic 
sense, the Signora with her family pride,— the 
Docteur with his patents, poor old fool 

(-1 knock at left.) 
Ah. Come in. 

(Enter L, Dr. Briggs.) 

An unexpected happiness. Be seated my dear 
Docteur. 

Dr. B. My dear Count, my visit can scai-cely be 
termed hajipiness, seeing that my news is bad. 
R. So ! The Signora is ill ? 

Dr B. In mind -very. The fact is, Count, a se- 
ries of financial disasters has comjjletely jiros- 
trated her. It is as though some evil achitis liad 



taken charge of the destinies of the family 

R. But how could there bean evil genius to so ex- 
cellent a family ? It is impossil)le that any (mc 
could wish them aught but good. 
Dr. B. To your kind heart it doubtless appearjj 
so ; as indeed it does to mine. It is realiy in- 
comprehensible. Mrs. Holland is ... . 
R. So kind ; so charming ; so free Irom every de- 
fect and . .' . . 

Dr. B. And Olive so sweet and .... 

R. Ah ! I dare not tru.st myself to .speak of lier, 

till I can call her my wife. 
Dr B. In that matter, my dear sir, you have my 

hearty sympathy, as you well know. 
R. Of course tlu-n I shall be in a position to do 

much which etiquette would forbid me even to 

suggest now. 
Dr. B. ( >f course. I think that ( Hive's scruples are 

only maidenly, and she will now, I think, see the 

wisdom of yielding to a suit wliich so honors the 

family. 

R. And you say tliere has been a succession of 
misfortunes? 

Dr. B. As you know, Frothingham has lost a for- 
tune on Comet . . ' . 

R. Ah yes, I am aware. Unfortunately, in a mere 
moment of frolic, I made him a leetle wager on 
ze hor.se,— only a small part of his loss, however. 
I really thought he was sure to win. Comet was 
the favorite against the field. 

Dr. B. Yes, it's incomjirehensible, unless tlir 
jocky has been tampered with 

R. What! You mean to tell me that .such a thing 
is possible ! I am shocked continually to note 
the want of morality in your American sporting 
circles. Why, my dear sir, in Europe suili a piece 
of villany woulcl be found out and punished to 
the extent of severity. Suiji a thing would be 
impossible with ns ! 

Dr. B. I am sorry to admit that with us, such ras- 
cality does sometimes occur. 

R. Tut, tut, tut. 

Dr. B. What we are at present concerned about, 
is the fact that tlie race is lost. Mrs. Hollond 
was already seriously embarassed by the crash 
in Western railroad shares, and has had hard 
work to save Frothingham from discreditable 
failure. 

But, worst of all, has come the suspension of Du 
Barry & Co. \The entire available funds of the 
family are on deposit with the firm, and I call- 
not allow myself to even guess at the conse- 
cjuence. 

R. What! Du Barry failed! Hsavens ! I haf 
all my surplus with him ! 

Dr. B. My dear sir, I aui aghast ! 

R. This is bad news indeed, I fear it shall press 
me in the matter of that leetle mortgage vich I 
hold .... 

Dr. B. Good Gracious! Count, I hope not. I 
count rather upon your aid than upon your dc- 
manils. 

R. Ob, I shall do my best. Of course, if I marry 
it will alter ze aspect of aflairs. In that case I 

shall present the mortgage to my wife, you 

understood ? 

Dr. B. (aside.) That settles it. Olive ?mts< accept 



him ((ili)iitl.) Yes, C^omil I qiiitf uii<lerstaiiii. 
noiiljtlcss yi>n are rii^lit. 

K. Yi!U can see that action iim.st be iiiiniediate. 

Dr. 15. Yes, yes. I see. If tlie present clitBciilty 
can be tirled over I believe tlie future is secure- 
Mrs. Holland has one certain means of retriev- 
ing her fortunes. 

R. Ha! 

Dr. B. Yes. My ])ateiits. You know she has a 
larg;e interest in them, 

R. (aitide.) 1 breathe freely. (<ihmd.) Yes, oh 
yes; doubtless they are her best chance. Y'^ou 
are so ingenious, is it not? 

Dr. B. I am simply an unpretending man of sci- 
ence ; but there is a great future for my patents. 

(He draice a small instramenl from his pocket.') 

Here now is a little instrument for testing the 
humidity of the atmosjiliere. 

R. (aside.) Ob ! He is off again. 

Dr. B. It's not entirely perfected yet, but I've got 
it into fair working order. 

K. Ah. How interesting ! 

(aside) He has forgotten all about the trou- 
bles of the family. Ha, ha, ha. 

Dr. B. You see this dial. Note the figures please. 
Now I'll give you a practical demonstration of 
its operation, if you'll permit me to step out 
on this balcony for a few moments. AVhen I re- 
turn you can perceive at a glance the relative 
percentage of moisture outside as compared with 
this room. 

R. Very good, very good, my dear doctor. I shall 
eonsurne with impatience to vitness so interest- 
ing an experiment. 

Dr. B. You are a man of scientific instinct, Count, 
of rarely scientific instinct. 

R. Ah. 

{E.rit Dr. B. to Btdcony, <it liack.) 

R. (solus.) Ze old idiot! He bore me vith ma- 
chines to register moisture in ze air. Can he 
invent a machine to register the hate in my 
heart ? The hate for the man who has disgraced 

• me by a blow — who i>atronizes meashis inferior, 
— who has educated me only that I may the 
more keenly feet my humiliation ? For the man 
who uses me as the worthless instrument of his 
own revenge ? Malediction ! We shall see. 
Your spear is a boomerang, jMaster Yernon ; it 
shall return to wound yourself— even unto death. 
Ah! 

( The voice of Vernon, off H. is heard calling ■'Rivelli") 

I do not want him to question me till I get my 
letter written. He shall not find uie here. 

{Exit Rivelli hastily at R. V. E Eriter Vernon at 
R. I. E.) 

V. {solus.} Not here! I thought I heard him. 
Ah well, perhaps it's not to be regretted. _ That 
man's manner has something in it tliat is not 
soothing to a soul already full of temjiest. Bah ! 
What a cold draught from somewhere. Ah ! the 
balcony window is not quite closed. 

(He c/o.vf.5 and securely bolts the window door.) 

There's a feeling of snow in the air to-night, 
and it's groAving colder. 

(.'1 sound of idnd and rain without.) 

Yes, there comes the sleet; it's a fitting ac- 
conipaniaient to my thoughts, a fitting back- 
ground to the work of this Kivelli. I wonder 



wliereheis. It's important 1 should learn the 
exact state of afl'airs. 
(Calh.) Rivelli, Rivelli. 

{Exit Vemmi, R. I. E.) 

( The sound of ina-eaaing storm heard from without. A 
hard knocking is heard at the balcony wmrfow.) " 

Dr. B. (from the balcony.) Count, I sav Count, let 
me in. 

(There is a pau.w, during irhieh luiil and wind are 
heard milhout.) 

Dr, B. (from the balcony.) Count Cavalli, wliere 
the deuce are you ? It's raining cats and pup- 
pies out here. For heaven's sake, open the win- 
dow. 

(He shakes window violently.) 

(Another pause and increasing sounds of storm.) 

Dr. B. {from the balcony.) I say, I am drenched 
to the skin. Let me in. 

{•Sounds of storm increase.) 

Dr. B. (from the balcony ) Murder! Helj)! Thieves! 
Let me in. 

{Tlie sounds of stonri continue at intervals during the 
remainder of the Act- 

[Re-enter at R. I. E. Vernon.) 

V. (.wlus.) Gone! But where? His caiiacity for 
mischief (^an,always be trusted, but I dare not 
give him too free a rein. He seems very de- 
voted to my cause, and yet there is a sardonic 
tone about his words which stings me at times, 
like a whip. He appears to revel in the details 
of this scheme of ruin, which to nie is utterly 
revolting. Wcnild to heaven thei-e were some 
way to keep my promise to my dead benefa-^- 
tor without resorting to the methods of the 
midnight assassin ! I feel like the bandit in 
whose ears must ring the cry of his victim — 

Dr. B. (heard from the bedcony.) Murder! Mur- 
der! Theives! Robbers! 

V. Ha ! Oh ! Great Heavens ! What was that ! 
(A pause.) Faugh ! my imagination is strained. 
My brain is on fire. What a fool I am ! 

( Warming his Itands before the fire.) 
Ah, it's a good niglit to be within doors. 

(Pounding heard on the balcony.) 
AVhat was that ? I could have sworn I heard 
a knocking somewhere. I suppose it was the 
wind. The storm seems to be settling down to 
work in earnest. Let me think quietly (seated 
in arm chair.) for a few minutes. 

Dr. B. {from balcony.) Murder ! Help ! Thieves ! 

Let me in. 
V. {springing up.) Surely this is no delusion. 
Dr. B. {from balcony.) Let me in ! I'm frozen ' 

soaked ! It's doing everything at once out here. 

Let me in. 
V. Where are you? 
Dr. B, On the balcony. 

V. (going to balcony window and raising shades.) 
TIVio are you ? 

Dr. B. Oh ! I'm a sponge ! Let me in for the 
love of heaven ! 

( ]^ernon opens window and admits Dr. B. who is 
soaked with rain and -covered vrith snow. His hat is 
over his ears and mashed in.) 

Dr. B. {struggling to get his hat off so that he can 
see.\ Coimt Cavalli, this is the most extraordin- 



16 



ai y treatment — Oh I wlio are you ? 
V. I, sir, am — 
Dr. B. Oh yes, I see ; you're the Count's servant. 

I remember your face. 

V. Yes sir, I-I-am-the Count's servant, (aside.) 
But I came near forgetting it. (aloud.) You sir, 
are, I think. Dr. Briggs ? 

Dr. B. I !('o,s Dr. Brigcrs ; I am now a mass of 
pulp ! Look at me ; look at me, sir. Soaked ! 
Drenched ! Literally taken up in solution ! It's 
the most extraordinary experience I ever had 
m my life. 1 go to tiie balcony to test the value 
of my new apparatus for registering moisture — 

V. (touching him.) Did you say moisture ? 

Dr. B. (taking off Ids necktie and wringing it out.) 
Yes sir, moiAure. The Count locks me out and 
leaves the room. I get intere.sted in the opera- 
tion of my invention, and the first thing I know 
I am out in a blizzard — a regular Dakota bliz- 
zard ! The machine works splendidly till — 

V. Is that the machine ? 

Dr. B. That «'o,v the machine. It is now a wreck ! 

It burst its bulb in the vain attempt to register 

the moisture fast enough. 
V. (laughing.) Upon my word. Doctor, you do 

look a little disorganized. 
Dr. B. Don't laugh at me, sir. You forget your 

place. 
V. (angrily.) Sir, you'll oblige me by not using 

that tone to me. I'm not used — (aside.) Ssh ! 

I am forgetting , true enough. 
Dr. B. Insolent I A valet ! 

V. (with an humble manner.) I-I-craVe your par- 
don, Signor-I for the moment, as it were — 
pray excuse me. 

Dr. B. Look at that hat ! (He runs ]iis Iiand through 
the crown.) 

V. If you will step this way, I can perhaps find 
some change of clothing for you till yoii can at 
least reach your own quarters, sir. 

Dr. B. Very good. I shall certainly be glad to 
get anything that's dry. (emde.) If I only had 
had one of Canon Ashton's sermons now ! 

(Exeunt R. I. E. Dr. B. and Vernon. A moment later, 
enter, at K. U. H., Rivelli, with an open letter in his 
hand.) 

R. (solus.) It is written now, and once having 
been put down in black and white, there is less 
chance of an alteration of our plans, (glancing 
at letter.) I think I haf made myself plain to the 
iSgnora; and, even were circumstance difl'erent, 
I am quite sure she desires to have her daughter 
known as Countess. The dream will have a rather 
abrupt awakening. Ha, ha. But that is not my 
responsibility. Signor Vernon must answer ze 
awkward questions ; tis I who shall be the 
bridegroom of his cherished ideal ; / who shall 
possess her! Vat you say to that Rivelli? Is 
there nothing in the thought of that except a 
gratified revenge ? Pah ! She is beautiful ; I am 
but a man ! Yes, yes — Tonio ! Tonio Rivelli ! 
Your pulse grows t(jo quick for your purposes. 
Stop ! Be calm ! Calm ! You can u:ait ! You 
must wait for love— as for revenge. "(But 1 would 
not wait Ifjng ! No ! I would be queeck ! Ah ! 
Signor. 

(Enter, R. I. E., Vernon.) 

V. Rivelli, I ihave sought you in vain. Where 
have yon been ? Surely you were not out in 
this storm ? 



R. No, Signor, I was in the smoking-room, writ- 
ing. 

V. 1 believe that is the only place where I didn't 
look for you. 

R. I regret not to have heard the Signor. 

V. What do you mean by your extraordinary 

treatment of Dr. Briggs ? 
R. Dr. Briggs 1 (going towards balcony .) Oh! He 

stepped on to ze balcony and I forget him and 

leave ze room. 
V. Oh, you needn't look there. I have brought 

him in and have put him in the next room to 

dry. 

R. But why did he stay out? I left open ze win- 
dow. 

V. AVell, now that you mention it, I believe I 
fastened the window myself. It was. so wretch- 
edly draughty here. 

R. Oh, the poor docteur ! Ha, ha, ha. 

V. He didn't find it a laughing matter. 1 have 
fixed him u]) with some of my iraps, but I fear 
the fit is far from perfect. 

R. / had best assume the responsibility, Signor ; 
and I will send for a cab, and accomijany him 
home, by way of amends. Meanwhile, I will 
despatch this letter vich I haf just written to the 
Signora Holland. I am bringing matters to a 
rapid crisis, Signor. 

V. I am not sure that it's not too rajjid. What do 

you propose ? 
R. Matrimony. 
V. True. That was //;;/ proposition. But you 

don't mean ((/ oncef 

R. At once. There is no time like the pre.sent, 
especially for trifiing affairs. Ha, ha, ha, 

V. Rivelli, I believe your heart is steel. 

R. No, only iron. On my honor, Signor, only 
iron. 

V. And how will you accomplish this ? 

R. By giving them the choice of evils. It is I or 
ruin. I think they will choose me. Ruin, you 
know, is so uncompromising a ruffian ; while I 
— well really I am not so bad, eh? (poses.) 

V. Fiend ! 

R. Thanks. 

V. And you first dig the pit for them, and then 
compel them to accept you as their deliverer I 

R. You have a remarkably clear head for logic, 
Signor. 

V. Man ! Man ! 

R. Thanks. A moment ago I was a fiend ; now 
a man. Doubtless you shall call me Angel uj>on 
ze next outburst of emotion. Ha, ha, ha. 

V. I am in no mood for jesting. What is the 
present condition of alfairs ? 

R. The fortune of the Holland family has ceased 

to exist. 
V. All? 

R. All. Disapjieared, vanished, evaporated into 
thin air. I obtained control of everything but the 
cash, and dis])osed of that by breaking the bank 
in which it was deposited. It is as easy as the 
step of the last waltz, ven once one kiKjws how 
to do it. Ha, ha, ha. 

V. By heavens ! It's pitiable- I can go no fur- 
ther — 

R. Pardon me if I suggest that there does not 
apjiear to be much further to go. 



V. Vc^ ; yiiu wimld luurry tlic daujiliter and 
break lier heart: 

II. As if iiiarryin;4 /?«■ cciuld (In Unit ! A woniaii'w 
heart is niiieh less easy to hreak tliaii a bank. 
It's <-lrculiition is less e.xteivlad. Ha, ha, lia. 

V. But I tell you I shall not permit it. I eannut 
ruin the lives of these ])eoijie. 

U. Oh no ; be uierriful. I would. The Signora 
was so merciful to Sir Hugh ! 

V. True. You say true, Rivelli. She was inhu- 
man to him ; she did not spare him. 

R. No. 

V. Slie deliberately wrecked liis hajipiness. 

R. She did. 

V. She trampled under her feet tlie a|)peals of tlie 
man who loved her with the sole devotion of his 
life. 

R. Ay ! with scorn she trampled tliern ! 

y. And yet — 

R. And yet? 

V. My soul revolts at tills retaliation, Man! Do 
you not see how 1 seek to ext'use myself from 
this horrible task ? Yet you give me no encour- 
agement. You goad me on to evil. If I speak 
of Mrs. Holland's cruelty, you accentuate each 
word ; if I suggest clemency, you sneer. By 

. heavens ! I think I could kill you. 

R. Do so ; and [irove again the ingratitude of 
those who are faithfully served. I do your bid- 
ding ; work out your own scheme ; help you 
to keep your own solemn vow. And for that you 
would kill me ! Well ! I can die. 

V. Forgive me Rivelli. You see I am nearly 
mad. When you speak of my vow you recall 
my solemn obli.L'ation to the dead. You know 
well how to touch the right chord. I shall carry- 
out the work of my benefactor to the bitter end. 
Go on ; finish the business; but for the love of 
heaven be quick. 

R. Aha ! Spoken like yourself, Signor. I .shall 
not lag ; trust me for that. 

V. There is but one thing I desire. I have never 
seen the face of this Miss Holland. You mast 
contrive for me to do so. 

R. {fjuicMy.) Oh, no, no, no, no. It^ would not 
do. It-it might unnerve you. [aside.) most 
likely it would ! 

V. But— 

R. I tell you, Signor, it would never do. You 
would ri.sk the success of the whole enterprise. 
You would imagine she was pale — interesting, 
perhaps. Your heart would misgive you. (aside.) 
What could have put such a troublesome notion 
into his head? 

V. Is she beautiful ? 

R. Quite the reverse. She is very coarse — a red- 
faced, strongly built creature. Most uninterest- 
ing, I assure you. 

V. Her figure ? 

R. Embonpoint in all the wrong places ! 

V. Her hair? 

R. Straight — and very thin at the parting. 
V. Her eyes ? 

R. Her eye.s-ah-let me think. I never could 
quite tell their color because of lier dreadful 
squeent. 

V. Squint! 

R. Oh, terrible ! And, on my honor, her com- 
plexion is very like an ancient tomato. To think 
of marrying an an<'ient tomato ! 

V. Ye gods! 



R. 



Ve.s. 
service 
ha, ha. 



And you (juestion my devotion to your 
' Oh ingratitude ! ingratitude ! Ha, 



V. Ah, 'tis well fnr you to laugh ; I cannot do so- 
I do not think that I shall ever laugh again. 

R. My dear Signor, your liver is out of order. 
Take a graiu of calomel a day for three days; 
and meanwhile I shall marry the lady Believe 
me, your dose will be the ]ileasanter of the two. 
Ha, ha, ha. (goes io wiudoir.) Still .storuiing. I 
must despatch my letter, and you may expect 
great news to-morrow. Courage ! y<iur triumph 
is near at hand. And now I will look after a cab 
for the poor docteur — unless the Signorhassome 
further command. 

V. No, I have nothing further. Good night. 

(Exit Rivelli R.U.E) 

Ah .stay, Rivelli, — no, he has gone. I would 
have called him back and prevented the send- 
ing of that letter. But no, why fight against 
" manifest destiny? That, I believe is what the 
metaphysicians term it. Pah ! I'm as weak as 
water. 

(//(' liqlits a cigarette mid seats Iiimself before the 
fire.) 

This Miss Holland must be very plain. What 
a contrast to the face of Stella. Shall I ever be- 
hold her again ? Alas ! what a bitter thing is 
life. Ugh! How the wind blows! It must be 
very cold out there. (He stirs the fire.) Very, 
very cold ! But here it is at least warm, even 
though there be no peace forme. How the little 
flametongues lick, and eat and. eat. They say 
life is a flame — and is not the heart of man but 
fuel? What a problem ! What a problem ! I'm 
very sleepy. Heaven knows I need rest. I 
wonder-I wonder what the end of it all-will be. 
Ah Stella, my love, my unknown love. 

(He gradually falls asleep. For a. few momeyits only 
the sounds of the storm are heard. Then there is a 
knock at the door, Left ; then a pause and another 
knock. Vernon stirs in his sleep but does not awaken. 
Another knock, and theri the door is timidly opened, 
and enter Stella, thinly and poorly clad and wet with 
rain and snow. She draws her ,<ilighi cloak tightly 
about her.) 

Stella. No one here. But, yes— a gentleman, 
— and asleep ! Oh ! what shall I say when he 
wakes ? 

V. (murmuring in his sleep.) Stella! Stella! 

S. Ha ! My name ! 

Oh ! I must go away again ; but where? Out 
into that pitiless storm ! I cannot. Oh ! I am 
so cold ! If only I could get some of the blessed 
heat of the fire I might be able to face the I'ain 
and snow. But I am numb'; I dare not go-just 
yet. 

(She passes upstage, regarding Vernon intently.) 

V. (suddenly leaking.) Ha! Who's there? 

(Stella shrinks back unobscreed.) 

Ugh ! what a horrible dream ! First the face 
of my beautiful Stella — sad and stained with 
tears. And when I tried to learn the cause of 
her sorrow she reached her hands to me with 
such a i)iteous movement! And then, when I 
pleaded to know what I should do to help her 
there came to her lips a cry of pain, and as her 
form died away into mist, her finger pointed to 
the figure of a woman, shivering with cold — 
helpless, appealing — a woman in tattered gar- 
ments, who held her wretched cloak about her 
and crouched in the snow. And thcn-then-a 



18 



sound of knocking; sumewliere, and the sob of 
the wind-and tlien — Good God ! 

( Vernon has ttmied, and suddenly sees Stella. She 
is kneeling, up stage, in the attitude described by him.) 

Who are you f 
S. Oh, sir, forgive me. I huf no right here. I 

am-I am — 
V. [(.mde.) The (^(.HU'hing woman of my dream ! 
S. I haf sought to lind this house for two days, 
Signor, and it is only toniglit that I haf succeed- 
ed. 1 would have gone away again, but I was 
so cold, and so tired, and— and— 

{She rises to her feet, hut nearly falls. Vernon an- 
siits her to a chair.) 

Thanks, Signor, I didn't know I was so weak. 
I- shall be better in a moment. 



S 



. My poor girl, who are you ? 

I am Italian, Signor. I haf but a little while 
reach tliis land. I earned passage in the steer- 
age by working in the scullery. That was my 
only means to come -and I had to come at once. 
I brought vith me my child, and a poor woman 
is caring for him till I can find help. 
Your child? 
Yes. 

You are little more than a child yourself. 
Alas ! Signor, I am all a woman in sorrow. 
Poor girl ! I pity you. 

Bless you for that word. It is warmer than 
the tire. Jt makes me brave. 
. [aside.) The same old tale of wrong. It's 
sadder than tears, (aloud.) Where is the child's 
father? 

Here— in America somewhere. In New York 
I think. He ideserted me, spurned me, struck 
me, Signor. I haf followed him to America. I 
have no friends. I heard that these apartments 
were let to a wealthy Italian gentleman and I 
have sought him out to see if he will have mer- 
cy ui)on a countrywoman in great distress— a 
countrywoman though a peasant. 
. And what is your purpose? 
To find my husband, and— 
. Your husband? {a.ride.) I wish she would 
not try thus to deceive me. 

Ay. And to force him to do me justice; to 
take the stain from his child. 

Well, you shall certainly have shelter here — 
for the present at least. But you must know 
that I am not the master of this establishment. 
These rooms are rented by the Count Cavalli. 

And you are ? 

I am-I am-the Count Cavalli's valet 
But you are noble of soul, Signor. 
Wliat are you called ? 
Stella, Signor. 
(starling.) Stella! 
Ay. 'Tis a usual name with us 
Yes, yes. In Kome I — 
And you have been in Rome? 
. Yes. I knew a Stella there ; that is-there is 
a l»dy there whom-whom— 
Whom you knew ? 
No. Whom I did not know, but— 
. But whose name was Stella ? 

No, whose name was not Stella, (aside.) Con- 
found it ! What am I trying to say? (aloud.) 
1 knew l)y sight a beautiful lady in Rome, whose 



face I painted from memory, and whom I called 
SIrlla, l)ecause her image was so bright to me- 

S. Painted! You are an artist ! 

V. Yes. 

S. And yet a valet ? 

V. No. Y'es. That is — never mind what I am. 
Let me be only a gentleman at present, and do 
what I may to make you comfortable. Are you 
warmer? 

S. Indeed yes. The fire— it is so bright and 
beautiful. 

V. Take this glass of wine. Perhaps it may 
strenghten you. 

(He gives her uine.) 

S. Signor you are too good to me. I shall not 
forget. I never forget a kindness - nor a wrong. 
No. never a wrong! All things come even at 
last, Signor. 

V. Ha! Is it so? I hope you are right, Stella. 
I hoi>e, from my soul, you are right. But let us 
not talk of that now. I wish to aid you if I can, ,i 
but to do so I nuist know the truth. I am used to 
the world and understand its ways. You must 
tell uie the truth. Is the man who deserted you 
— really- your liusband ? 

Ah. Pardon me. You flush. I do not mean 
to wound you. I want to aid you, that is all. 

S. (with dignity.) Signor, he is my husband- 
wedded to me by a priest of our Holy Church. 
You would smile ! 'Tis always so. But you 
shall see I haf not forgot my proofs. 
I pray you read. 

(She draws from her bosom a small document and , 
liands it to Vernon.) ' 

V. (glancing at the signature.) Ah ! Father Man- 
oini, of the Madonna Speciosa. Yes, yes, I know 
him well. And he married you. Let me see. 

(He glances back to the lop of the paper and reads.) 

"To the Faithful, greeting. Know ye that in 
accordance with the Rites of the Holy Catholic 
and Apostolic (.'hurch, I have this day duly 
united in the solemn bonds of " 

( Vernon suddenly breaks off, as he hears a noi.-n: 
off Right.) 

Ha! some one is coming. Where can I jiut 
you? At tills hour of the night you must not 
be found here. 
S. Signor ! I do not understand. 

"V. There is no time to explain. The world, 
Stella, is merciless in its judgments, and always 
assumes the worst. Take this till a more con- 
venient moment. 

(He hands her the certificate.) 

Pshaw ! where shall I put you ? Ah ! this 
way, quickly. It will do for an emergency. I 
wont keep you there very long. 

(He draws back the curtain at alcove. Left,, back.) 

S. Ah ! Signor. 

(/S7)t' ha.<!tily enters the alcove.) 

V. (solus.) Stella !' How gently the very name 
lies upon my lips. Ah ! the Doctor ! 

(Enter R. I. E., Dr Briggs. He has on. a Punjab shirt 
with floiving red necktie ; pantaloons several sizes too 
long ; a tight Norfolk dressing jacket several sizes\too 
small, and a Mexican Sombrero.) 

Dr. B. I say, Pietro — I think you are called Pie- 
tro? 



19 



V. Si, Signer. 

Dr. B. It's very good of you to hunt me up a 
change of flotliing, Tietro ; but you'll excuse 
mo for remarking that you are the poorest judge 
of measurements I ever met. Ever}' garment 
eitlier fits me too mucdi or too little. If I were 
an air-lxill I might hope to make this coat meet, 
around the waist ; but under the actual circum- 
stance of the case it's impossible. As for the 
unmentionables — well— I've got as far through 
them as I can, but it's no nse. I should like to 
take the measure of their owner, from hip to 
knee, in the interests of comparative anatomy ! 

V. It was the best of a bad bargain, Signor. 

Dr. B. And a Punjab shirt, too ! 

RiVELLi. (heard froiii without, off Right.) Come, 
docteur, I haf a cab at ze door. 

Dr. B. All right, {aside.) I hope I shall reach 
home without being mobbed, that's all. 

(E.vit Dr. B., Right — Vernon bowing Idm out.) 

RtvELLi. (heard from without.) Ah ! Ha, ha, ha. 
All genius is eccentric in dress, is it not? Ha, 
ha, ha. 

(Sliila is seen to dratu aside llie curtain at alcove, and 
hiislily enters. 

Stella, (excitedh/ catching Vernon's arm.) Whose 

voice was that ? 
V. The gentleman here was Dr. Briggs, a friend 

of the Count's. 



S. No, no. I mean the voice that called Irom 

withcjut, the voice that — 
R. (heard from without.) Ah, docteur; we never 

know what strange fate await us, eh? Ha, ha, 

ha. 

S. That ! that ! For the love of Ciod, whose voice 
is that f 

V. That is the Count himself. 
S. (racantly.) The-Couut-himself. 
V. Yes ; the Count Cavalli ; he whose aid you 
seek. 

S. The Count Cavalli-whose-aid-I seek. 

(She breaks into tears and totters, Vernon supports 
her.) 

Oh yes yes. I must have been deceived— I 
beg your pardon— I am — very faiut. I think— I 
am ill. 

V. My good girl ; taste this. 

(He a.^sists her into a chair, and offers her a glasss of 
v;ine, which she puts aside.) 

S, Thanks, thanks, I am better now, (whispers.) 
Better - better. 

Vernon bends over her as the curtain falls. A church- 
hell is heard tolling the hour of twelve. There is the 
sound of carriage-tvheels without.) 

END OF ACT THIRD. 



20 



-A.CT I^. 



Dnwnmj-room of Mrs. Holland as in Act First. As 
the curtain rises Vernon enters hastily, Left. 

Veknon. [sohm.) Not here yet. I was almost 
afraid they would be ahead of me. 

Thank heaven, the time has arrived when this 
degradation of changing places witli my own 
servant shall be at an end. It has galled nje— 
oh how bitteriy! But the triumph of the end 
will well rejiay me ! WeW ! well ! 

Ah ! my haughty, high-bred Mrs. Holland— 
you who crushed in cruel wantonne,ss the life of 
my benefector— how will you feel when your 
newly-made t'oantess, your d'earl v beloved dau'di- 
ter, IS revealed to you as the wife of a lackev, 
the companion of a paid and miserable iniposter ? 
Ha, ha, ha, it warms my blood to think of it ' 
Then, for the first time shall I be able to say : 
"Hugh Calvert, you are avenged, and your vin- 
dication is comjilete. The foul wrong done to 
you has recoiled upon your wronger, the sins of 
the parent have been visited upon the chil- 
dren." And then my vow will have been ac- 
complished. I shall return to Rome and to my 
art and— and to Stella. Ah, I scarcely dare to 
think of that ; to Stella, my love, my life ! 

[Enier hurriedly, at Left, Dr. Briffgs.) 

Dr. B. Eh, eh where's somebody? Where's 

Perkins ? Oh, Pietro is that you ? 'Waiting the 

Count's arrival I suppose. 
V. Si, Signor. 
Dr. B. {rings hell.) Where in the wcjrld is that 

man Perkins? The carriage will be here before 

he gets to the door. 

(Enter R. servant.) 

Perkins, hurry down and make everything 
ready for your mistress. She is a little upset by 
the excitement of the morning. 

{Serrant bows and i.rit, Left.) 

It is well you are here to a.ssist the Count, 
Pietro. He is a happy man to-day. In fact it's 
a .sort of general rejoicing. Mrs.' Holland was 
quite overcome at the weddinsr ceremony and 
I hurried ahead to have things in order for her 
reception. Ah, marriage is a solemn business, 
Pietro, a solemn business. 

V. Si, Signor, a solemn business. 

{Dr. B. sits down hastily and a slight crash is heard.) 

Dr. B. Great Heavens ! my rack ! 

V. {running to Dr. B.) Sir ! what is the matter ? 

Dr. B. Oh ! my rack ! it's broken, broken— 

V. Ha ! Broken ! What ? Are you injured "^ 

Dr. B. Oh— oh. 

( Vernon, attempts to assist Dr. B.) 

Dr. B. Take care, take care how you touch me. 
Oh the joints are surely smashed. 

v. Joints! Heavens! Are you in pain? 

Dr. B. Take care, take care. Oh ! its broken be- 
yond a doubt ? 

V. What is broken, sir ? 

Dr. B. My rack. 

V. Your rack ? 

Dr. B. Yes, my new patent portable extension 



hat-rack. I had it in my coat-tail jjocket. 
V. {aside.) Pah ! 
Dr. B. It's really too bad. It was a model which 

I had just perfected with the utmost care. Dear 

ine ! dear me ! 

(He draws forth an extension hat-rack, much damaged.) 

It's a most useful idea. You see I have so of- 
ten been struck with the inconvenien e of hav- 
ing nowhere t(_> place your hat in public resorts 
that I set to work to meet the want. In a thea- 
tre a man puts his hat between his feet; by and 
by somebody has to reach seats in the same row, 
and away rolls hi.s hat into the perspective. It's 
not MO bad for the ladies ; they keep their hats on 
and rtnly inconvenience a dozen or so who sit 
behind and can't see over them. But for a man 
the dithculty is a personal one, and therefore 
disagreeable, This rack of none iiiuv be aii])lied 
anywhere. I took it this morning intending to 
attach it to the jiew in the church, but there 
was so much to do that I forgot all about it. Its 
operation is so simple that— Ah, I hoar the 
carriage. I must hurry down to assist Mrs. 
Holland. 

(Erii hastily at L. Dr. Briggs.) 
V. {■•'olus.) So. This man's mind is busy with 
hat-racks and patent toys, while for me the crisis 
of a lifetime is at hand. His brain teems with 
notions of sjirings and spirals and svphons 
while mine reels as though the universe were 
rocking at its base ! 

My nerves are unsteadv; mv triumph is so 
magnificent that I scarce know "how to face it. I 
am a fool I must conquer this weakness. Ha! 
1 hear them coming. I will wait until the whole 
party is together. Then, then ! 

(Exit Vernon Right.) 

{ Voice of Dr. B. of Left. : "Yoa will feel better soon 
I am sure.") 

(Enter, Left, Dr. B. and Mrs. H.) 

Mrs. H. Thank you doctor. I am better already ; 
the air has revived me. I thought I should .suf- 
focate in the chapel. 

Dr. B. Yes, yes, I saw you were overcome. Pray 
sit here, dear Mrs. Holland. 

(He places arm chair.) 

Mrs. H. My nerves were overstrained, you know, 
and— dear Olive looked so lovely and so pale- 
so very pale! And to think of her being really 
married— and so brilliantly ! It all seemed like 
a dream, and everything— tlie stained windows, 
the vestments, the solemn tones of the organ,— 
ran together in a confused ma.ss of color and 
sound and -and -I think I should have fainted 
if you had not gotten me out. It was very 
good of you. 

Dr. B. You know how glad I always am to serve 
you. It did indeed seem almost incredible, when 
the benediction was pronounced and Olive was 
really the Countess Cavalli ! Dear me ! how 
strangely things fall out in this world ! 

Mrs. H. Strangely iiuleed. But come, there must 
be no long faces today ; the bridal party will be 
here in a moment. Ah ! Listen to the chimes. 
How merrily they ring! One might almost 
imagine that there was no sin or sorrow in the 



21 



world. Ah ! my dear I'hild. May she always 
be hai)py. Forgive me, doctor. A mother's 
heart, you know. 

' Dr. B. Madam, in this world there is nothing 
more sacred. 

I {Looking off L.) 

Yes, Frothinsham and Cecily lea<lingthe way 
and sparring good naturedly as usual. For peo- 
ple in love with each other, they delight in 
teasing to an extent absolutely incomprehen.si- 
ble. 

(Enter Right Frothinghiim, with Cecily on his arm.) 

F. Here we come, a bride and groom de facto, and 
a bride and groom de jure, as the lawyers say. 

0. Never jest on a grave subject. Ha, ha, ba- 

Jlrs. H. Is Olive coming? 

C. Yes, their carriage followed ours. Cavalli is 
radiant. 

Pr. He ought to be ; he has drawn a prize. 

K. Do you know I think I never saw a better 
pleased Ijridegroom ; there was a look of real 
ti'iumph in his eyes when tlie tinal word was 
pronounced. 

Mrs. H. I trust it will all tui-n out for the best. 
C. (looking off Left.) Ah, they are here at last. 
Olive's eyes are just red enough to be becoming. 

(Voice of Rivelli heard from witliout.) Lean' upon 
my arm. You are flustered, mia cara. 

(Enter L., Rivelli and Olive. They cross to Mrs. H., 
who kisses Olive on the forehead. Rivelli kis-^es 
Mrs. H.'s hand. Vernon enters, R., and relieves 
Rivelli of his hat and light overcoat which is lying 
across his arm. He places these on chair at back. 

R. (Intently watching Vernon.) The Countess' 
wrap, Pietro. 

( Vernon comes down. Olive takes wrap from her 
■ shoulders and hands to Vernon. As he looks up 
their eyes meet. There is an instant of deep silence. 
Olive shrinks back and i'.s supported by Rivelli. Ver- 
non utters a cry and reels backward.) 

V. Stella! Oh God ! 

Dr. B. (starting fonvaril.) What does this mean ? 

*R. The Countess is iaint. Pay no attention to 
my man. He is subject to these attacks of aber- 
ration. A glass of water, please. 

Mrs. H. (going to Olive.) Mj' child, what is this ? 

R. Nothing. My valet has startled her. 

V. Liar ! 

F. (starling.) Ha ! 

(Frothingham interposes to prevent Vernon from strik- 
ing Rivelli.) 

V. This is some frightful mistake. Hear me for 
a moment. This lady is — 

R. (drawing Olive's arm through his own.) This 

lady is my wife ! 
V. (stunned.) His — his H<ife ! Oh — it is true. 

Lost ! Lost ! 
' C. Olive ; dear Olive, what does it all mean ? 
O. Oh— 1 — am ill. Very ill. Get me away from 

here please. 

(Riv. offers to support her, but she repels him.) 



DR. B. 


F- 


c. 


* 
* 


■It 


* 

* 
* 


MRS. H. 


V. 


0. R. 



O. I do not require aid, sir. 
R. As vou prefer — always, madame. 
Dr. B. Count, there is a mystery here which — 
V. Which I will explain. He is no Count! 
(All utter exclamations of astonishment.) 
V. His name is Tonio Rivelli— 
Dr. B. His name is Tonio, the Count Cavalli, 

whose marriage has but now been — • 
V. No I He is my lackey ; my paid servant ; my 

desj)icable slave. 
R. (fiercely.) Yes, your lackey ! 

(He points towards Olive who has sviooned into a cliair 
and is tenderly held by Cecily.) 

R. Your despicable slave whom you once struck 
here — here -J (places his hand to his forehead.) 
Your despicable slave who has at last avenged 
that blow ! Your slave who now possesses the 
jewel that you would have died to possess ! Y'our 
slave who has at last become your ma.'!ler .' He 
best may laugh who wins, Master Eustace Ver- 
non. 

Mrs. H. Eustace Vernon! 

V. It is your last triumph, devil ! 

( Vernon rusli.es upon Rivelli, but is restrained by Froth- 
ingham and Dr. Bnggs.) 

F. (to Ver.) And who are you ? 

V I am Eu.stace Vernon, the friend and heii 

of Hugh C'alvert, whom you, madame, (to Mrs. 

H.) jilted and wronged years ago. 
Mrs. H. (with a cry.) Hugh Calvert! The curse 

has come home to me, oh ! 
F. (to Ver.) Sir, you shall answer well to me 

for the ruin and' dishonor you have brought 

upon my fanuly. 

V. You are already avenged in the woi-se ruin 
I have brought upon myself. 

(As lie speaks Olive revives ami eagerly leans for- 
ward.) 

The only woimm whom I ever loved is there. 
[indicating Olive.) 1 liveil but to learn lier 
name, — to know her,— to win her, if it might 
be. My days were passed in plans for her ; my 
nights glorified with dreams of her sweet pres- 
ence. It was her face that I painted upon my 
canvas in Rome. Her's ! Her's! 

(Vernon buries Ids face in his hands.) 

Mrs. H. Ha! In Rome, (aside to Olive.) Is he 

not the artist of the chapel ? 
O. Alas, yes. 

(A noise off Right. Voice? "I tell you, you can't 
go in." "I tell you, I icill go in, ' &c., &e. 
Dr. B. goes up stage to see what the trouble is.) 

V. (continuing wrth effort.) I set her image up 
in my heart of heart as queen. 

I tore myself away from Rome, thinking she 
was still there. I came to America to revenge 
the wrongs of my benefactor. And now— my 
plans have recoiled upon my own head ! Hope 
— happiness — are dead for me forever. Stella, 
Stella. 

(//(' reaches his hands^towards Olive who starts to- 
wards him.) 

R. (interposing.) My wife, Signor. I will trou- 
ble you to remember that fact. 

(Enter hastily, Right, back, Stella She comes down. 
Rivelli's back is toiuards her.) 

R. We stand here as man and wife. 



22 



(As III' turns he seen Stella immediately before him.} 

H. Ay, as man and wife, in tlie eyes of God and 
man. 

R. Stella ! Perdition ! 

Dr. B. {aside.) Stella ! Stella ! Seems to me I be- 
gin to see stars. 

V. (aside.) Ha ! she here ! 

Mrs. H. Who is tliis girl and how came she liere? 

S. Signora, I am here to elaim my own. This 
man is my husband. 

{ fSxclamations of surprise from all.) 

R. Malediction ! Will you believe such a tale 

as this? 
S. Yes, Tonio, they will believe when I show 

them the proof. 

O. ((joiny to lt\uth.) Oh\ 

S. (producing pertijicate.) See. 

{All crowd about her.) 

V. It is true ! It is true ! I have already seen 
this document but was interrupted before I read 
the name- Oh fate ! fate ! 

Dr. B. (to H.) Then, sir, you are guilty of a 
double villainy. The wedding which we have 
just attended was no wedding at all and — 

F. And my sister is free. 

O. (aside.) Light! Light at last ! 

V. Free ! Free to give me life if she but will. 
{cmning down to [Mrs. H.) Madam, the past is 
crowded with wrongs. I have sought retaliation. 
I ask fur your forgiveness. Will you not be 
generous to one who has suUered much ? 

{Mrs. H. gives him her hand, and reaches her other hand 
to Olive: Then she places Olive's hand in his ami 
turns aside weeping.) 

v. _( To Olive.) Indeed I have loved you long. 
Wliat is my answer ? 

{She looks into his face for an ijistant and then 
throim herself into his armsnnth a .tuddenahatid.uu.) 

F. {To Cec.) There's a pose worth inutatijig 
Cecily. Eh ? 

C. Foolish fellow ! You know that I love you 

(He takes li.er hand.) 

Dr. B. (To Riv.) And what have you got to say 
for yourself? 

R. That it is dum)) luck alone whii'h has given 
you the advantage. As for me, I have out- 
witted you all. I liave punished enough the 
man who struck me and I am satisfied. I al- 
ways meant to return to Stella ven I had com- 
plete my purpose and — 

Dr. B. And you will do .so now ? On that con- 
dition alunc we will spare you from punish- 
ments 

S. Ah, Tonio, I haf always loved you. And the 
bambino, Tonio — 

R. 1 vill do so now. 

S. Ah! 

( Tonio and Stella pass up stage.) 

Dr. H. As a dowry to start afresh I present to 
your wile your uniiaid interest in my patent 
tiy-catcher It will be worth a fortune to your 
granilcliildreii. 

S .\ thousand thanks, Siirnor. 



R. (aside to Stella.) A hundred will be sufficient. 
Mrs. H. ( To Vernon.) You, sir, slujuld know 

that my daughter is portionless. The fortune 

which we once po.s.sessed is gone. 
V. l?ut happily the means to restore it are at my 

command. 
0. But I cannot even give vou my heart. 
V. Ha! 
O. No. You robbed me of it long ago in 

Rome. 
V. Ah, I shall show you how safely I have kept 

it, on our wedding day. Hearts shall be served 

at our wedding breakfast. 

F. And to make it more effective we'll have the 
wedding breakfast ordered for tu:o couples, and 
their friends, please. 

(J. Provided I give my consent. 
F. Which of course is doubtful. 

(Cecily boxes Prothingham' s ears.) 

V. And I shall claim the privilege of provid- 
ing the dowry of my brother's bride. 

F. {clasping Vernon's hand.) My dear fellow. 

Mrs. H. Ah, doctor, all comes right at last. 

Dr. B. Yes. And now that they are all so hap- 
py, won't you give me your particular attention 
for a moment. 

Mrs. H. My particular attention? 

Dr.B. Yes. I have just patented au invention 
verj' pertinent to the present occasion. 

Mrs. H. (aside.) Another invention ! 

Dr. B. And quite simple. It is a self-adjusting 

„ ring, (producing a finger ring from his vest-povlcet?l 
capable of being enlarged or made smaller at 
pleasure. It will thus tit any finger. 

Mrs. H. Ah? 

Dr. B. Ingenious, isn't it? 

Mrs. H. Very. 

Dr. B. You see by a slight pressure of the spring 
— so — 

(He jUaces the ring upon her finger.) 

Mrs. H. That is really very nice. It's very coiu- 
fortable too. Doesn't incommode one in the 
least. 

(Dr. B. is bending over Mrs. H.'s hand. Cecily sig- 
nals to Frolhirtgliam, Olive and Vernon, who come 
silently down, watching Dr. B. and Mrs. H., Rivelli 
and Stella remain at back absorbed in conversation.) 

Dr. B. You're sure it doesn't feel disagreeable. 
Mrs. H. Oh, not in the least I assure you. 
Dr. B. Ah, I am glad of that. * 

Mrs. H. I think a woman's hand always luuks 
the better for a ring. 

Dr. B. I am more than glad you think so, be- 
cause — because — 

(Mrs. H. looks up and, meets the Doctor's eyes.) 
Mrs. H. {Emharassed.) Why doctor— I— I— really— 
Dr. B. No, no. Don't take it nil'. Please wear 

it always — for uiy sake. 
Mrs. H. Ah— my dear friend— my best of friends. 

{She gives him her hand. The others break iiUo a 
nierry laugh. Dr. B. and Mrs. H. turn, confused.) 

F. We all wish you joy. 
V. Ay. Every one of us. 

i h'ni'r A'., ti<n_-k, a strrttni.) 



23 



8EKVANT. Luiu'heuu is .served, niaduin. 

C. (aside.) (.)li ! I'lii ever so glad. I'm awfully 

hungry. 
O. Let us have it in the conservatory, aiuont; the 

flowers. (To Mrs. II.) 
Mrs. H. Very iruod, dear. It shall be as you wish. 



F. And while you nn- giving; order's, please order 

that wedding lireakfest for Uiree couples. 
V. (indicating audience.) And tlieir friends. 

( The ladies give their hands to the gentlemen. Rivelli 
is seen to kiss Stella upon the forehead. A chime of 
hells is heard as the curtain descends.) 



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